Redemption Road
by SolarisAce
Summary: Jim Ridley - Dragonborn, mercenary, war hero, and a man with a past he regrets. On a quest for personal redemption, he takes a contract with the Dawnguard...and reveals a sinister plan - a plan to shroud the sun itself. Then a beautiful woman with a shady past walks into his life...and may very well be what he needs. This is their story... ON HIATUS
1. Chapter 1: A New Contract?

**Author's Note: Hello. This is going to be the my first fanfic, so any constructive tips would be appreciated. I played through the Dawnguard DLC on both sides and recently got the Hearthfire DLC. This story will be set following the main quest and starting the Dawnguard quests, while including some Hearthfire content.**

**OCs will be present in this fanfiction.  
**

* * *

Jim sat at the bar in the Bannered Mare, staring into the ale he ordered.

He was Harbinger of the Companions _and_ Dragonborn on top of that. He ordered yet another drink from Hulda, who did not question why he was drinking heavily. He usually came in with a smile on his face and a laid-back attitude, with only personal acquaintances talking to him: Saadia, Amren, Ysolda…most of the residents in Whiterun knew him.

Then again, he wasn't famous before—renowned, yes, but not famous. About two months had passed since he defeated Alduin, the World-Eater and put a stop to the Civil War. Nearly everyone knew his name now, regardless of what hold they lived in. Some admired him more than others.

Jim never cared about fame; he fought as a matter of principle. Of course, getting paid for what he did best didn't hurt.

Night fell outside, and he decided to head to Breezehome and go to bed. He was stopped on the way by an Orc, clad in armor like nothing Jim ever saw before.

"Looking for work?" the Orc asked him.

"I might be interested, if the pay's good," Jim replied. "Or if the cause is right."

"Does killing vampires sound like a good cause?"

"Well, I'll be…" Jim trailed off. "Where do I sign up?"

"Isran is going to like you," the Orc replied. "Take the cave past Stendarr's Beacon, through Dayspring Canyon and to Fort Dawnguard."

Jim gave a nod, and started past him.

"Name's Durak," the Orc said as Jim walked away. "Hope to see you there."

Vampire hunting…simple enough, right?

* * *

He woke the next morning, covered in sweat.

Those damn memories; they haunted him in the form of nightmares. He must have made a considerable ruckus, because Lydia came in.

Jim almost always reached for the bottle after such a nightmare, a bad habit he developed; drowning the past away in a flood of ale. This time, he fumbled it and it fell. Lydia caught it before it hit the ground.

Lydia sighed, dropped the formalities and asked, "Was it the same dream?"

"Leave it be, Lydia…" he murmured.

Lydia was one of the few people he opened up to about his past. A dumb decision, looking back; concern almost never left her voice now.

"I'm traveling," he said.

Jim had a preference for the Wolf Armor that the Companions used, but instead opted to use the Orcish armor he stored. While vampires he encountered before always used spells, thralls tended to aggressively attack up close and often with warhammers.

Orichalcum was simply better crafted than Nord steel.

Dawnbreaker—the blade gifted to him by Daedric prince Meridia for clearing her temple of the revolting machinations of the necromancer Malkoran-its very cut burned the undead and sent the stronger ones fleeing in terror.

The vampires had better watch out…

* * *

His destination lay beyond The Rift, within the mountain range between Skyrim and Morrowind. At least, that's what he figured, since it was further east of Riften. He saw the cave Durak had mentioned, and—from a distance—two Vigilants of Stendarr. It wasn't until he got closer that the so-called 'Vigilants' attacked.

Without hesitation, Jim drew Dawnbreaker from its sheath. As one stayed back casting flames spells at him (which Jim found rather ironic), the other sidestepped and tried to rush at him with a war axe.

"Yol Toor Shuul!" Jim Shouted at the farther vampire. Shock filled her expression just before the blast of fire hit her. Shrieking as she burned, all that remained was a charred husk.

Jim barely had enough time to get his shield up before the war axe hit. He retaliated with a shield bash, followed by an X-shaped cut with Dawnbreaker. The vampire screech as the first of the cuts set him ablaze, and the second one made him explode in an inferno of light and fire.

Victorious and uninjured, Jim sheathed his blade and walked into the cave opening.

What did it all mean: Vampires masquerading as Vigilants instead of staying in a cave during daylight? Under what insane delusion did they think they would win in the situation?

Right then, Jim had a big feeling that this job was going to be anything but simple.

* * *

Dayspring Canyon was beautiful in its own right: a ravine with a glacial waterfall emptying into a lake, with a hill leading upwards. At the top of the pathway lay Fort Dawnguard; it was severely understaffed, which explained why this Isran seemed desperate for recruits. One doesn't recruit from the general populace unless they needed the manpower in a hurry.

The lack of guards compared to an Imperial fort might also explain why two vampires had gotten so close to it. And the Nord he saw at the base of the pathway was definitely no professional; a farm boy with big ambitions, Jim figured. The kid was talking to Durak.

"You're here to join the Dawnguard too, huh?" the Nord asked.

"More like lending a hand," Jim said. "I'm a mercenary."

"A sellsword, then? Great…"

"This isn't just any mercenary," Durak interrupted. "He is the Dragonborn."

The young Nord looked away, in a show of shame. He felt that he had disrespected _the_ Dragonborn. Truth was that Jim didn't really mind not being recognized. If anything, he was more annoyed that Durak mentioned him.

"Just call me Jim, if you don't mind," he said.

"Agmaer," the farm boy said.

"Now," Jim changed the subject. "Where do I go to see Isran?"

"Follow the hill to the top, through the main doors. You'll know him when you see him," Durak directed.

Giving a nod of thanks, Jim continued up the path and through the entrance to the fort.

* * *

**Author's note:**

**Hope you enjoyed the chapter. I hope to have at least three up this month. I doubt you'll get more until I finish my semester, but it may happen.**


	2. Chapter 2: Mission: Dimhollow Crypt

**Author's note: Dialogue for the fixed situations (i.e. as with Isran) with be modified, as will certain events.**

* * *

Isran was a fierce looking Redguard, about the same height as Jim. With the clash of steel-colored eyes and a long dark beard, he gave quite a first impression. He could see why he'd be considered the leader of the Dawnguard.

Isran was in an argument with a tall man with a shaved head and faded robes. From what he was able to overhear, there was an attack on the Hall of the Vigilants, and how their number were "severely" hit.

Jim could feel himself tense up. He wasn't involved with the Vigilants as a whole, but he was acquainted with a few of them. If they were taken by surprise…

"So, you're the one Durak told me about," Isran said, interrupting Jim's thoughts.

"I am," he confirmed. "I hear ya' might have a job that needs doin'."

"To the point—I like that," Isran said. "You've got a great deal of experience, so here's the job: vampires have taken an interest in Dimhollow Crypt, in the mountains southwest of Dawnstar. We want to find out what is they're looking for; that's where you come in."

"You want me to scout it out?" Jim asked, not really expecting an answer.

"You put a stop to what they're doing, and then we make an arrangement," Isran said.

The other man came up to him, "I am Vigilant Tolan. I'll meet you there."

A knot formed in Jim's stomach—he worked only with close friends. Anyone else tended to end up dead.

"No," Jim said. "This will go a lot smoother if I go on my own."

"I must go!" Tolan snapped at him. "It's the least I can do to avenge my fallen brothers.

Jim nodded, and with a sigh added, "This isn't a good idea. Don't rush in until I get there."

"One more thing," Isran started. He handed Jim a peculiar weapon. "It's a crossbow. It'll come in handy dropping those vampires before they get close."

Jim did remember seeing a few crossbows before, but they were quite old. His father told him that they were quite common among the Legionnaires in the Third Era—during the time of the Tribunal.

* * *

He took no time to rest, but he made a side stop in Windhelm for food. Many people looked upon him with resentment; he had after all taken part in the battle for the city. Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak lay dead when the dust had settled, despite Jims attempts to negotiate surrender.

Ulfric fancied himself Skyrim's true high king and liberator, and often used the ban on Talos worship by the Aldmeri Dominion as a means to gain support. While Jim and General Tullius shared Ulfric's hatred of the Dominion, Jim saw the big picture. The Thalmor _needed_ the Civil War to keep the Empire and Skyrim unstable.

The dossier he found at the Thalmor Embassy attested to that.

Though, it was Tullius who did the deed of slaying Ulfric. Jim was uncomfortable enough with all the blood he shed that day.

* * *

He continued on to Dimhollow Crypt, and was overcome with worry…

Tolan was not at the entrance…

Dimhollow seemed more a cave than a crypt, though that was bound to change soon enough.

Jim stepped lightly; surprisingly stealthy despite the Orcish armor he wore. Concealed in darkness, he surveyed the cave before him. There was a body, two vampires, and a strange dog-like creature he never saw before.

Jim felt a shiver down his spine as he overheard the vampires talking about a fresh kill, and a Vigilant.

_Damn,_ he cursed silently. The body could only be Tolan. Jim knew that the Vigilants of Stendarr were zealous, but he didn't think they were stupid.

Taking aim with the crossbow that Isran gave him, Jim fired. The bolt flew true, hitting the female vampire in the heart. She collapsed soundlessly, but the crossbow gave off a surprising amount of noise and alerted the other vampire and the hound.

Jim dropped the crossbow and drew Dawnbreaker, its center shining brightly with the presence of the undead. He got his shield up in time to deflect a blow from the vampire's sword; Jim counterattacked with a shield bash and a slash from his blade.

The vampire hissed as fire snaked along his wounds, and screeched as it took a stab in the gut.

Jim was blindsided by the hound, however. He felt the bite slip past his armored bicep as he was hit from behind. He could feel cold rushing through his body, like the bite from a Frostbite Spider, but far more potent. The bite could best described as being as cold as death itself.

It was then that Jim could think of a name for the beast: Death Hound...

"FUS RO DAH!" he Shouted, sending the hound flying into a cave wall. The force from the impact crippled it, giving Jim the time he needed to pick up his crossbow and finish it off.

His body shook with the fierce need for heat. He held position, giving himself some time to warm up. The damn Death Hound was fragile, but dangerous if it managed to get the drop on its victim.

Stealth would be a wiser choice here, but wasn't practical with his armor and crossbow.

Jim found the switch for the gate the vampires were guarding, and decided to fight his way past. Thankfully, the vampires had disturbed the Draugr in some areas, so the resistance he met was fairly light.

The deeper he proceeded, the more like a crypt the place looked. He finally came to a balcony overlooking an open chamber with a circular platform in the center. It almost resembled a watchtower; there appeared to be some pattern carved into the stonework on top, but Jim couldn't make it out from his vantage point.

He was, however, able to make short work of the two vampires on the bridge without detection with the crossbow.

He needed to investigate the platform—his gut told him that whatever the vampires were looking for was tied to it. It certainly was no watchtower: in the center of the platform was a button, with several braziers around it.

He rested his hand in the button, looking around for any hidden passage that it could activate. Pain shot through from his hand, as he saw that it was impaled almost completely, stopped only by the armor on the back of his hand. The spike retracted, and Jim immediately applied pressure to the wound.

A trap! How did he get so careless?

Then he noticed the patterning in the ground glow with a faint purple light, and clearly tied to the braziers.

Not a trap, then. A blood seal, like the one outside Skyhaven Temple. Except that it seemed to take _any_ blood.

Jim got a few leather straps on the wound. It would hold until he found an opportunity to properly disinfect and treat it. Instead he focused on the task at hand, moving the braziers around. As he moved each into place, they began to burn with an eerie purple flame.

He heard stone move, and where the button had been raised a monolith.

Jim had a big hunch that the monolith was similar to coffins for the dead…except that he couldn't think of what would be in it that was so important. Dead bodies weren't important except to necromancers.

He reached his hand against the crack in the monolith. He barely touched it before it opened on its own.

Jim lost the air in his lungs.

Inside was a woman…


	3. Chapter 3: Unexpected Circumstances

**Author's note: I will attempt to tell the story in this chapter in Serana's perspective as well. I hope to maintain a reasonable consistency with her character. Please let me know if there's anything I can do to improve. Enjoy!**

* * *

She could smell him before she saw him. A hand supported her as she fell, warmth bleeding through her clothing.

Looking at his face, she wondered if _he_ found her.

Then the world around her slid into focus, and she saw that it was someone completely different—and someone entirely mortal.

* * *

_I'll be damned…_ Jim thought to himself.

The woman was very much alive, as if she was simply sleeping in there. She was cold to the touch, likely from the cold. But her beauty was captivating, with ebony hair just above shoulder length and several prominent braids. Her jawline was low and square, but with a softness that didn't at all detract from her beauty. But what struck Jim most at the moment were her eyes: orange, and glowing in the dark.

She groaned, and in a sleepy tone said, "Where is- Who sent you?"

For a moment, Jim envied her oblivion. Nevertheless, he remained professional in his reply, "Who were you expecting?"

"I was expecting…someone like me, at least," she confessed.

The eyes, the blood seal…it added up.

"So then you're a…" he trailed off.

"Vampire," She finished. "Yes."

Jim had enough vampires in one cave for one assignment. But there was something different about this one; she wasn't attacking him, for one thing. She seemed more cordial than even Solitude's court wizard, Sybille Stentor, who was quite snobbish.

"Why were you locked away like that?" Jim asked.

"That's complicated… If you want to know the whole story, help me get to my home," she said.

He was assigned to investigate Dimhollow Crypt. He did just that, and this was the result…. The Dawnguard would have him kill the woman, but he was a mercenary. He decided to see where this course of action would lead. Jim gave a nod.

"My family used to live on an island near Solitude. I would assume they still do," the woman said, "By the way, my name is Serana. Nice to meet you…"

"You can call me Jim," he said.

"Jim…" she tested. "That's an odd name."

"I get that a lot…" Jim replied. "So, any idea how we get outta here?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Serana said.

"Stick with me, then. Can you fight?"

"Of course," she grinned.

They crossed the other bridge, and the two eerie statues came to life.

They disposed of the gargoyles with ease. Serana wasn't lying; she was capable with magic as well as her dagger. What disturbed Jim was the reanimation of one of the gargoyles.

Necromancers…Jim didn't like the concept of necromancy. The thought of forcing a body to serve after death—he pushed the thought aside.

There was a gate on the balcony, and a lever nearby. Jim and Serana started up the stairs.

"How long have you been in there?" Jim asked.

"Good question. I can't really say. It feels like a long time." She paused, "Who is Skyrim's High King?"

Jim had a dry sense of humor, "You'd think it'd be obvious now, but it's still up for debate."

"Oh, wonderful," she said sarcastically, "A war of succession. Good to see Skyrim didn't get boring while I was gone. Who are the contenders?"

"Were," he corrected, "the Empire supports Elisif, but many in Skyrim were loyal to Ulfric of Windhelm. Some still are..."

Serana was stumped, but not for the reason Jim expected.

"Empire?" she asked. "What empire?"

"The Empire…from Cyrodiil," Jim answered, taken by surprise.

"Cyrodiil is the seat of an Empire? I must've been gone longer than we planned. I need to get home to figure everything out," Serana said wearily.

Jim nodded, and they continued on, fighting through draugr and skeletons until they reached an audience chamber of some sort.

"Keep on your guard," Jim said. "Rooms like these are bad news."

As if on cue, several skeletons stood to attack the duo. Jim used his Fire Breath to dispose of one wave. So far, so good…except that he noticed the telltale horned helmet of a Draugr Deathlord.

That thing had to go down quickly, as it was capable of disarming its foes with a Shout. He knew from experience. It was no slouch with its greatsword, either.

Jim charged the Deathlord, using his Whirlwind Sprint to dash past it just as it Shouted. Pivoting on his heel, Jim delivered a series of slashes and a stab. An explosion of light came as it fell, killing the rest of the skeletons but injuring Serana in the process.

Jim gasped and rushed over to her by the word wall, whispering repeated apologies. He should have expected Serana to get hurt. He would have to avoid using Dawnbreaker while traveling with her.

"I'm alright," she said. "Was that…Shouting you did?"

"Yes, I-," he hesitated. Then he asked, "Do you know about 'Dragonborn'?"

"Yes. Only what I heard from tales, though," Serana said. "Then they're true?"

"They're true, all right," Jim said. "But we can talk about that later; right now, I plan on getting you where you need to go."

Jim made sure to examine the Word of Power on the wall before they left the crypt.

* * *

"Ah! It's so good to breathe again," Serana exclaimed once they emerged from the crypt.

"You might change your tone when you learn I came this way on foot," Jim said. "We would be getting there after sunrise."

"We could walk to Dawnstar, stay in the inn, and grab a boat to your home from there," Jim added.

Before they moved on, Jim took the opportunity to treat the wound on his hand. It was still bleeding, but Serana paid no attention to it. Jim gave it a proper cleaning, cast a basic healing spell on it, and wrapped what remained with a new strip of leather.

The trip on foot to Dawnstar took well over five hours, and the sun had risen during that time. As planned, they stopped at the inn. The mead didn't give Jim the calm he was hoping for, but it did help him ease into a four hour nap. Serana simply stayed casual, although Jim could swear that she was watching him.

It seemed more out of curiosity than out of hunger.

* * *

Serana took everything casually, though she actually felt a little bit overwhelmed by everything. How much had actually changed while she slept?

Dragons…Serana overheard talk of dragons having returned to Tamriel; certainly was a big change from when she was a little girl. And Jim mentioned being Dragonborn—a trait rare to the mortals of Nirn.

While familiar with the lore of the Dragon War and Dragonborn individuals, Serana had never met one—until tonight, that is.

It seemed like coincidence; the first person she saw when she woke up claims to be Dragonborn…. She couldn't resist checking up on him as he slept.

Among Nords, Jim had an unusual appearance. His skin was several shades darker, and hair was black including his goatee and moustache—with a few streaks of gray, despite not being all that old.

Must have non-Nord ancestry, Serana figured.

Though he was asleep with most of his armor off, he had a cotton shirt under it. Serana simply examined him silently; he carried a number of scars on his arms, a few on his face, and probably more hidden under clothing and armor.

Who knew what pain he carried?

She snuck out and let Jim sleep undisturbed.

* * *

He woke from a relatively peaceful sleep, and very much intact. Part of him felt bad for being nervous about Serana, but it was a force of habit with regards to new faces.

After getting his chest armor and gauntlets on, he had a small meal before he and Serana set off. There was someone with a rowboat at the northeast end of town, but Jim had to pay him extra to get them to the island Serana mentioned. The man mentioned something about it being cursed.

* * *

The very second they were on the shoreline, the man with the rowboat bolted.

Jim could see why he called it cursed. It was one giant castle, older than Dragonsreach, older than the Blue Palace…it damn well may have been older than the Empire itself.

"So… This is it. Home sweet… castle," Serana said.

"You didn't tell me it was this big," Jim joked. In truth, the size didn't faze him—at least as far as the outside went. If the inside was anywhere near as big, problems could arise.

"I didn't want you to think I was one of those, you know… Woman that sits in their castle all day… Coming from a place like this… It really isn't me. I hope you can believe that," Serana said, her voice slightly concerned.

"You struck me as the adventurous type, actually," Jim said, trying to lighten the situation. "Funny, royalty traveling with a farm boy, and both free spirits…I think I read this tale before."

His humor worked, as Serana gave a slight laugh. "That _does_ sound like something from a fairy tale."

He didn't take three steps before she started talking.

"Hey…Before we go in there…"

"Are you alright?" Jim asked, noting some discomfort in her voice.

"Yeah, I think so," Serana said. "And thanks for asking…"

"I just wanted to say thank you for getting me this far. I think I'm going to go my own way for awhile. I think…," she trailed off. "Most of your friends would want to kill everything in there, but I'm hoping you can show more restraint than that. Just let me do the talking, and try not to draw any attention to yourself."

Jim gave an understanding nod, and let her lead. The watchman at the gate let them through, but the first vampire inside confronted Jim almost straightaway.

"How dare you trespass here," the high elf vampire hissed. But then, he saw Serana. "Wait… Serana? Is that truly, you? I cannot believe my eyes!" He ran onto the balcony before him, "My Lord! Everyone! Serana has returned!"

"I guess I'm expected," she said in sarcasm. The vampires in the main hall were astonished to see her. Jim had his attention drawn to what she carried on her back. Why didn't he notice it before?

She was carrying an Elder Scroll…

She walked down the stairs. Jim was disturbed at the bloodbath before him: vampires everywhere feeding on humans, and there were more of those damn Death Hounds.

A man stood in the center of the hall, arms outstretched dramatically, "My long lost daughter returns at last," his voice as dramatic as his pose. First impressions told a lot, and Jim didn't like the feeling he got. He seemed…wrong; and it wasn't just the way he spoke. It was the way he carried himself, used his authority, and a look of dominance in his eyes. "I trust you have my Elder Scroll?"

_Damn_, Jim cursed inside. He sees his daughter for the first time in gods knew how long, and the first thing he's concerned about is the Elder Scroll?

Serana didn't miss a beat either, "After all these years, that's the first thing you ask me?" she sighed, "Yes, I have the Scroll."

"Of course I'm delighted to see my only daughter, must I express that aloud?" the man asked.

_If you really are a father worth anything, you have to…_Jim thought.

Serana's father cupped his chin and looked upward, "Ah, if only your traitor mother were here. I would let her watch this reunion before putting her head on a spike." The statement shook Serana up…definitely bad blood on that subject.

The lavishly dressed lord turned to Jim, "Now tell me, who is this stranger you've brought into our hall?"

Serana stepped forward, her voice somewhat confrontational, "This is my savior, the one who freed me."

The man spoke to Jim, sounding less rehearsed, "It seems I have you to thank for my daughter's safe return…James Ridley."

Jim gave a shocked look. While becoming a living legend tended to make your name known, how could he have know what he looked like?

"Surprised? Little that happens in Skyrim escapes my attention," the man said, sounding dramatic again. Then he went on, nonchalantly, "I am Harkon, lord of this court. By now my daughter will have told you what we are."

"Vampires," Jim said bitterly.

"Not just vampires," Harkon replied. "We are among the oldest and most powerful vampires in Skyrim."

Jim let him talk on; Harkon obviously loved to hear his own voice. If Serana wasn't right there—or if he wasn't surrounded—he might have drawn his crossbow and shot Harkon then and there. It took a great deal of willpower to resist doing just that.

"What happens now?" Jim asked.

"You have done me a great service, and now you must be rewarded. There is but one gift I can give that is equal in value to the Elder Scroll and my daughter. I offer you my blood. Take it, and you will walk as a lion among sheep. Men will tremble at your approach, and you will never fear death again…" Harkon offered.

"And if I refuse?" Jim asked.

"Then you will be prey, like all mortals. I will spare your life this once, but you will be banished from this hall." Harkon gave a very malicious grin. "Perhaps you still need convincing? Behold the power!"

Harkon suddenly shook, blood seeping from his pores. With an explosion of blood, he assumed a new form. This form was demonic, grey-skinned with sharp claws and skeletal wings—Jim couldn't even figure out how Harkon stayed off the ground. The attire this form had was regal, considering the monstrous appearance.

_Look, it even has a crown…_Jim thought.

"This is the power that I offer! Now, make your choice!" Harkon bellowed.

To "never fear death again"-the very way Harkon said that told him the reason behind this...thing's existence. Vampires were powerful, certainly. But to choose to become one was to admit cowardice; the way Jim saw it, life needed death to make it precious.

He'd rather die having lived a full life than to live without knowing life.

He gripped an old ring he kept on a chain around his neck. He made a promise to live life on his terms, and he had every intention of holding to that promise.

"Not interested," he said.

"So be it," Harkon said, clearly irritated. "You are prey like all mortals. I banish you!"

The Vampire Lord conjured a spell in one hand, and hit Jim instantly.

Jim could swear that he saw a great sense of loss in Serana's face just before the world around him vanished...

* * *

**Author's note: This is probably all you'll be getting for a while, unless I get _extremely_ lucky with spare time. As I don't have a transcript for the the various dialogue options in the game, I'll have to actually make the character and play through the questline again.**


	4. Chapter 4: Getting things done

||Thirteen Years Earlier||

||Talos Plaza District, Imperial City||

Jim Ridley, 21 years of age, remained still as he crouched next to his best friend, Titus. His get-rich-quick schemes always involved Jim, and almost always targeted the Dominion—at least a dozen of their heists left the Dominion with fewer enforcers and less coin. Julius also targeted people who could "take the loss," as he put it. Loot was always spread 50/50 between them.

Even so, Jim still had an altruistic streak, as he made sure nobody who didn't deserve it got hurt, and always sent most of his cut—by carrier dog—to his parents.

The scheme here involved some Imperial noble who informed on his neighbors to the Thalmor. They then simply shook down people that even looked at them funny, except the noble who paid them off.

So, what if the noble hat nothing to pay them off with? An example would have to be made of him, and the two outlaws would make a tidy profit…

"Little Jimmy," Titus started. "You ready for this one?"

Titus, being nearly ten years his senior, always referred to Jim as "Little Jimmy."

"You know I can't resist a shot at the Dominion," he said. "I'm ready."

By the end of the week, the noble was living on the Waterfront, after the Thalmor took his home that is…

* * *

||Present day||

He awoke to familiar smells, with a big gap of what happened since he was banished from the castle.

Wood, furs, aged books—all had smells. Jim then opened his eyes; he was in the Harbinger's quarters. He was back in Jorrvaskr…

"Awake, I see," a woman said. Jim turned to see who it was. It was the Imperial, Ria.

"I won the bet with Njada," she said.

Jim willed himself to move, but his body was numb. This nose was stuffed with something he couldn't describe. The best he could do was to sit up on the bed.

"Take it easy, Harbinger," Ria said. "You're quite lucky we found you when we did. I imagine you'll be suffering a cold for the next few days."

"I don't remember," Jim said. "Where did you find me?"

"Halfway drowned, washed up near Solitude's lighthouse," she said. "Most of the others made bets on whether you would wake up or not; you've been asleep for two days now."

"That long…" Jim said. "Damn it."

"So, what happened?" a stern voice asked. He knew the voice: Aela the Huntress. "I fought beside you plenty of times. Did you go for a swim and get pulled down by your armor?"

Jim chuckled, "Yeah, nice to see you too, Aela…. Where do I start with this?"

Dismissing Ria from the room, Aela sat down and listened to his account of what went on the past couple days. She wasn't sure what to think about the account, but when Jim mentioned the castle on the island, he really got her attention. She was always curious about what was up there, but Kodlak would always advise against investigating it.

She also believed Jim when he said he was hit with a banishment spell, which she figured was the reason he ended up in the sea. Anything involving the Elder Scroll, however, was a subject she was skeptical about.

"Vampires…" she trailed off.

"Yes," he confirmed. "One of the strongest bloodlines, too; that lord was far stronger than the usual 'cave trash' I've killed before."

He sneezed, feeling like a beaten hound. He knew what it felt like; he _was_ a werewolf before, after all.

"I need to get back to Isran," he said. "I need to tell him what's happened."

"Not in that condition, you're not," Aela told him, and then added, "with all due respect, Harbinger. We'll get something from Arcadia's Cauldron to treat that cold—you just rest some more, for now."

Kodlak once said that every man was their own in The Companions, and that he was nobody's master. Jim viewed himself the same way. As such, he had Aela run the day-to-day routines in The Companions. One might say that she was Jim's second in command. So, as long as he was still bedridden, he had no room to argue with her.

She was true to her word, and turned up with medicine. It helped with the cold, but Aela insisted that Jim dine in the mead hall and leave in the morning.

That night, he drew quite a few eyes. The day they found him washed up was the first they'd seen of him for over a fortnight.

He even got a laugh at Njada Stone-Arm's expense.

"So you _did_ wake up," she had said. "Damn; Ria won the bet."

"You can't keep good ole' Ridley down forever," he chuckled. "Ria was quite smart with her money. Did Farkas bet against me waking up, too?"

"No," Farkas replied. "Vilkas and I weren't the ones betting; not our style. That would be Athis and Torvar."

"You're wising up, ice-brain," Jim taunted—all in good humor, of course.

Vilkas added to the conversation, "_They_ lost, too. Ria has all of tonight's winnings."

Laughs rang out all around the hall, and dinner was on. It had been a good while since Jim ate Tilma's cooking. He'd forgotten how good the roasted pheasant tasted, all topped off with Honningbrew Mead.

* * *

Jim got an early start the next morning and traveled by carriage to Riften. It was nightfall by the time he got back to Dayspring Canyon, with vampire attack having been recently stopped. Isran stood right outside the fort's front entrance covered in what Jim could only describe as a shield of sunlight.

"Look at this," Isran said. "I should have known they would find us."

"It's the tradeoff of openly recruiting," Jim said.

"True enough," Isran replied. "We'll have to step up our defenses…"

He then added, "I don't suppose you have some good news for me?"

"News," Jim said. "I wouldn't call it good, though."

"Damn. Well, what do you know?"

"The vampires were looking for a woman trapped in Dimhollow," Jim said. "As it turned out, she's the daughter of a powerful vampire lord."

"And you delivered her right to them…" Isran trailed off.

"It gets worse," Jim said. "They have an _Elder Scroll_…"

Isran's face was stoic as ever, and voice deadpan. Still, Jim knew that he was hiding shock under it all.

"They _what_?" he started. "And you didn't stop them? You didn't secure the scroll?"

"There were too many of them, and one of me. We're all lucky enough I got out alive to report this," Jim said.

"So they have everything they wanted, and we're left with nothing," Isran said.

"Come on, Isran," Jim said. "You're no idiot. We can still get the scroll from them—we'll just need extra help. I have a few contacts, and I can probably call in some favors."

"What about you?" Jim added. "You know anyone who can be helpful?"

"Yes," Isran said. "There are a few people I've worked with over the years. We'll need their skills, their talents, if we're going to survive this."

"Who are they, and where can I find them?" Jim asked.

"I think we'll want Sorine Jurard: Breton girl, whip-smart, and good with tinkering. Fascination with the Dwemer—weapons in particular," Isran said. "Last I knew, she was out in the Reach, convinced she was about to find the biggest ruins yet. You may need to convince her, though."

"So, a technological expert; great," Jim said. "Who else?"

"Gunmar," Isran said. "Big brute of a Nord, hates vampires almost as much as I do. Got it into his head back that his experience with animals would help; trolls in particular, from what I heard."

"Taming…trolls?" Jim asked in surprise, with a great hint of amusement. "Ain't a man in the world I know who can feed those animals without a serious mauling, much less tame them."

"Yeah well, if anyone can do in, Gunmar can," Isran said. "He'll be wandering Skyrim's wilderness looking for more beasts to tame. Get the two of them back here, and we start coming up with a plan…one more thing…"

"Yeah?"

"These 'contacts' of yours," Isran asked. "Are they reliable?"

"Absolutely," Jim said. "If you want to see for yourself, there is a manor in Falkreath Hold, north of Pinewatch. Talk to a man there; goes by 'Miller'."

"I'll worry about getting those two," Jim added before departing.

* * *

Jim had talked to Wilhelm on his way through Ivarstead. Apparently, there have been aggressive bear attacks for the past couple of days, and a man who passed through said he would take care of it. It could have been Gunmar, given his experience with beasts.

Even if it wasn't Gunmar, it may be worth the trip to remove the threat of bear attacks.

Jim's destination was directly north of town, in Pinepeak Cavern. He paid Wilhelm a small sum for the information before leaving.

Sure enough, Jim found a bear of a man at the mouth of the cave. He had hair bordering brown and red, with a single braid and a full beard. Despite this, it appeared he had a penchant for light armor.

_He would fit right in with the Companions_, Jim though.

"Gunmar?" Jim asked.

"Hold fast," the man replied. "I've tracked this damn bear for two weeks; I'll not let it have any more victims."

"Isran needs your help," Jim said. The reply that came confirmed to him that this man was indeed Gunmar.

"Isran? Needing someone else's help?" Gunmar asked. "Never thought I would hear that. But I'm afraid he's a few years too late; I've moved on. I have more important business to attend to."

"Besides," he added, "he can handle anything alone! He assured me himself. What could he possibly need my help with?"

"We're up against vampires," Jim said. "_And_ they have an Elder Scroll."

"By the Eight," Gunmar said. "Look, I'd consider helping, but I can't just leave this bear to prey on more innocent people."

"Let's deal with it first," Jim said.

"Aye, the help would be nice," Gunmar replied.

The two men entered the cave, the smell of blood a clear indication of the lives claimed by the bear. Even without the beastblood in him anymore, Jim still retained a good number of the senses he once had; a result of practiced use, he suspected. Something was off, though…there was more than one bear here; about three, if he was right.

Apart from the path down, the rest of the cave was very wide open. There weren't many outcrops for the bears to rest on. They were all in the center of the cave—all three of them. Jim let the crossbow bolt fly, hitting one of the bears straight in the eye—it wasn't dead, simply injured. Gunmar rushed the other bears head on before Jim had the chance to say anything.

Jim reloaded the bow with a very quick hand, getting the next four bolts off in less than ten seconds. With the bolts, he dropped the injured bear and killed another in short order while Gunmar slew the last one.

"I don't know how well I would have fared by myself—you have my thanks," Gunmar said as he walked back toward Jim. "You helped me, so I suppose it's the least I can do to find out what Isran wants. He's still at that old fort near Stendarr's Beacon, I assume?"

"Yes," Jim said. "He said to meet at Fort Dawnguard."

"Of course he did," was the reply. "He's been working on that place for years now—never lets anyone in. His own little fortress…I guess I'll get to see he's been up to all this time."

"Go ahead," Jim said. "I have unfinished business before I head back."

Sneaking a nod as he sheathed his blade, Gunmar took off from the cave and followed the trail back eastward.

_One down_, Jim thought. _That leaves Sorine Jurard.  
_

* * *

Jim knew some contacts among the Orc strongholds, particularly Mor Khazgur in Haafingar, north of the Reach. He took a carriage to Solitude and passed through Dragon Bridge on the way.

He did a favor for two miners in the Reach by clearing Kolskeggr Mine of the Forsworn two months back; one of the miners was an Orc. He put in a good word for Jim to the strongholds, and he since developed a good reputation as a warrior and leader.

Chief Larak told Jim that there were sightings of a woman to the southwest, further west of Druadach Redoubt. There were several Forsworn in the area, like the rest of the Reach. Larak wished a safe journey for Jim, who stocked up on potions from the wise woman before setting off to look for Sorine.

* * *

Finding Druadach Redoubt was simple enough; Jim simply followed the river southward from Dragon Bridge and then west toward Druadach Mountain, meeting stiff resistance from the Forsworn. Figures-Skyrim shared its western border with High Rock, where the Bretons originated. The Reach had always been contested territory between the two provinces; the most extreme Bretons formed the Forsworn, striking terror into the heart of the Nords.

Along the river, past the Redoubt, Jim came across a satchel filled with Dwemer gyros. Sorine Jurard wasn't far off, either. She was a few paces north of the river, looking a bit frantic.

"You haven't seen a sack full of dwarven gyros lying around, have you?" she asked. "I'd swear I left it right here."

"You Sorine Jurard?" Jim asked. At her nod, he added, "Isran asked me to find you."

"No, you must be mistaken," she said. "He made it exceedingly clear last time we spoke that he had no interest in my help. I find it hard to believe he's changed his mind; he said some very hurtful things to me before I left."

"Anyway, I'm quite happy in my current pursuits," she continued. "Now, if you'll excuse me…"

"Vampires threaten Skyrim," Jim interrupted. "That's why we need your help."

"Vampires? Really?" she asked. "And I suppose _now_ he remembers that I proposed no less than three different scenarios involving vampires overrunning the population. Well, what are they up to?"

"They have an Elder Scroll," Jim stated dryly. "I'd say that's worth worrying about."

"Interesting," she said. "I never would have anticipated that. In this case, Isran is probably correct in thinking it isn't good."

_Yes…Isran is quite the forward thinker_, Jim thought, not that he was one to talk.

"All right. If nothing else, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to learn more about what's going on so I can better defend myself," she started. "But I'm not just going to abandon what I've been working on here—too useful. I need at least one intact dwarven gyro. So either I need to find the satchel the mudcrabs stole or-"

"Wait," Jim interrupted, holding out the satchel he found earlier. "You mean the satchel I found a few paces south, by the river?"

"Thank you," she said, taking the satchel. "These will help a great deal with some of the things I've been researching. Now, where is it Isran expects me to go?"

"We're meeting at Fort Dawnguard," he answered.

"Been working more on his secret hideout, has he?" she asked rhetorically. "It'll be interesting to see how much progress he's made. I'll finish up here and head that direction as soon as I can. See you there."

"Stay safe," Jim said before starting to make his way south to Markarth.

Interesting woman…if a little clumsy…

* * *

**Author's note: I really lucked out in getting this chapter finished. Very light on the action side, but I felt the storyline should trump action in this chapter.**


	5. Chapter 5: A Welcome Reunion

Jim took the carriage to Riften, and stayed at the Bee and Barb that night.

Not much changed in Riften since Maven Black-Briar became jarl—the streets were as corrupt as ever. Maven already had the city in her pocket, along with the previous jarl, Laila Law-Giver, who was little beyond a figurehead. Before he fought for the Imperials, Jim and Laila considered each other friends.

She even told him about her doubts about Ulfric coming to power, and yet still threw her support behind him…

* * *

Jim went to Fort Dawnguard the next morning—Gunmar and Sorine found the place all right. Both of them stood in the main hall when Jim entered. Isran watched from a balcony, and the gates in the room shut.

"All right, Isran," Gunmar said. "You've got us all here—now, what do you want?"

"Hold it right there," Isran ordered. Immediately, the area that the Jim, Gunmar and Sorine were all standing was flooded with sunlight.

"What are you doing?" Sorine asked.

"Making sure you're not vampires," Isran answered. "You can't be too careful."

"At least have the courtesy of warnin' us, Isran," Jim said. "You're prudent, though—no argument."

"Warning you would defeat the purpose," Isran said. The distance between them was considerable, but something about his facial expression showed a deep distrust of Jim. It was like a man finding out about his fiancé's long guarded secret.

Isran then put on an official-sounding voice, "So welcome to Fort Dawnguard. I'm sure you've heard a bit on what we're up against: powerful vampires, unlike anything we've seen before—and they have an Elder Scroll. If anyone is going to stand in their way, it's going to be us. "

"This is all well and good, but do we actually know anything about what they're doing?" Sorine asked. "What do we do now?"

"We'll get to that—for now, get acquainted with the space," Isran said, before telling Sorine and Gunmar where they would be working in the fort.

"And _you_…" he directed toward Jim, in an accusatory tone. "We're going to get to the bottom of why a vampire showed up here looking for you!"

The gates lowered, and Jim noticed stairs to the right of where they all stood.

"Let's go have a little chat with it, shall we?" Isran remarked.

The look Isran gave…he suspected Jim of double crossing the Dawnguard. Not a bad suspicion if a vampire came looking for him. Jim may as well get this cleared up as soon as he could…

* * *

Jim met Isran at the top of the stairs, who then led him over to where the vampire was. The place was an interrogation room, with a wooden frame lined with shackles to keep victims restrained—no one was in that contraption, though…

She was in front of it, with the Elder Scroll on her back…

"Serana…" Jim whispered, with no one hearing him.

"This vampire showed up while you were away," Isran said. "I'm guessing it's the same one you found in Dimhollow Crypt; says it's got something really important to say to you."

"So," he said, "let's hear it…"

"You were looking for me?" Jim asked to Serana.

"You probably weren't expecting to see _me_ again," she said.

"Can't say that I was," Jim replied. "What are you doing here?"

"I'd rather not be here either," she said. "But I needed to talk to you. It's important, so please just listen before your…friend, here, loses his patience; it's about me, and the Elder Scroll that was buried with me."

"Go ahead," Jim said. "Tell us about the Elder Scroll."

"The reason I had it…and why I was down there, it all comes back to my father," she explained. "I'm sure you figured this out already, but my father's not exactly a good person, even by vampire standards."

Jim nodded, "Go on…"

"He wasn't always like that, though," Serana continued. "There was…a turn. He stumbled onto this obscure prophesy, and just kind of lost himself in it. It's pointless and vague, like all prophecies. The part he latched on to said that vampires would no longer need to fear the sun."

"So, he wants to control the sun, and once he has that, vampires could control the world," Jim said. "Does that about sum it up?"

"Right," she confirmed. "Anyway, my mother and I didn't feel like inviting a war with all of Tamriel, so we tried to stop him. That's why I was sealed away with the Scroll."

Jim sighed, taking it all in. A plan to gain control over the sun itself…the Scroll would probably tell how. But the Elder Scroll wasn't buried alone—Serana was sealed away with it.

Where did she tie into all this?

He spoke, "You took a big risk coming here, and not just about the Dawnguard."

"I did," she nodded. "But something about you makes me think I can trust you. I hope I'm not wrong."

"I can be trusted," Jim said. "We'll just have to persuade the others that you're on our side."

"I'm nothing if not persuasive," she said, a slight twitch that told him that she was holding back a smile…

Liddy did that all the time…

"All right," Isran interrupted. "You've heard what it has to say. Now, is there any reason I shouldn't kill this bloodsucking fiend right now?"

"Take a look at the big picture here, Isran," Jim said. "Set your hatred aside for one second, and think about it."

"Set my hatred aside?" Isran said. "Not a chance—it's what keeps me strong."

"Look, you hired me to investigate that crypt, and now it means we have to deal with this situation," Jim said. "And that means she can help us; if any judgment is going to be called on her, it's going to come from me…_I_ will take full responsibility if anything goes wrong."

"So," Jim added. "If you want my help, you'll let me handle this _my_ way."

* * *

Jim had practically handed Isran's head back to him with his argument, because Isran conceded, but made it clear that he would hold Jim accountable for anything she did.

"You hear me?" Isran asked her. "Don't feel like a guest, because you're not. You're a resource—an asset. In the meantime, don't make me regret my sudden outburst of tolerance and generosity. If you do, your friend is going to pay for it."

"Thank you for your kindness," she replied with an obvious touch of sarcasm. "I'll remember that the next time I'm feeling hungry."

"Well…" Jim said in amusement. "Glad you could see reason, Isran."

She knew then that she made the right decision in trusting him.

"First thing, though," Jim said to the two. "None of us can read that Elder Scroll; we'll need to find a Moth Priest to read it. Of course, if they're all in Cyrodiil, we're at a dead end."

"Some Imperial scholar arrived in Skyrim a few days ago," Isran said. "I was staking out the road when I saw him pass by—I'm sure that's your Moth Priest."

"So," Jim said. "It's a question of where he is now…carriage drivers and innkeepers might be helpful. Of course, I can always talk to my contacts at the College of Winterhold. If there's anybody in Skyrim with any knowledge of Elder Scrolls or Moth Priests, they'll be there."

"Sounds like a solid lead," Serana said.

"It'll do," Jim replied. "We'd better get right to it."

* * *

Serana and Jim took a carriage to Whiterun first; the reason being that Jim needed to arm himself differently. He couldn't risk using Dawnbreaker while traveling with Serana, having learned that the hard way at Dimhollow Crypt.

As they entered Breezehome, Lydia greeted them, "Honored to see you again, Thane."

Serana caught her eye. "Who is your companion?" she asked. Jim usually worked on his own or with the members of the Companions…or his Raiders. What struck Lydia was how out of place the woman seemed—a survivor from an era long past.

"Lydia, this here is Serana," Jim introduced. "We're going to be working together, for…quite a while."

Lydia nodded, with an understanding look in her eyes.

"I'll be right back," Jim said before heading upstairs.

His armor was in still in good condition, so he saw little need to change it. As for his weapons, he stored Dawnbreaker and instead an old Akaviri katana—something of a memento from the Blades before he decided they weren't for him. They went their separate ways when they decided that the old dragon Paarthurnax needed killing, in spite of all the help he provided.

The dragon who ultimately betrayed Alduin in the Dragon War had millennia upon millennia's worth of time to redeem himself of past wrongs. That still wasn't enough for them—but then, neither Delphine nor Esbern were Dragonborn. Jim could not expect them to see it from his perspective.

He shook his head as he pulled away from the tangent his mind was going off on. Seeing the katana again just brought up feelings of frustration and bad memories.

Fastening the katana to his belt, along with a steel dagger, he retrieved some potions for healing and stamina from the barrels outside his bedroom. He walked down the stairs, seeing that Lydia and Serana were already having a conversation while he was upstairs; he must have been lost in thought longer than he suspected.

"Ready," Jim said. "We're heading for Winterhold, Lydia."

"Safe travels," she replied.

* * *

It was nightfall when they arrived, and they stopped in the local inn. Jim couldn't help but notice Serana looking at him with concern, so he rented them a room to talk in private. He wasn't making a pass or anything of that nature—he simply wasn't keen on making Serana's vampirism common knowledge.

"Serana," Jim started. "Can I ask you something?"

"What is it?" she replied.

"Were you always…y'know…a vampire?"

He could see some hesitation on her face—it was a touchy subject for her. Nevertheless, she didn't refuse to answer.

"I guess…" she started "we kind of have to go way back, to the beginning. Do you know where vampirism came from?"

"From a daedric lord, I'd assume," he answered. "Like lycanthropy came from Hircine…"

"Exactly!" she answered. "The first vampire came from Molag Bal. She…was not a willing subject, but she was still the first. Molag Bal is a powerful daedric lord, and his will is made reality. For those willing to subjugate themselves, he will still bestow the gift, but they must be powerful in their own right before earning his trust."

"And you personally," he asked "how did you actually become a vampire?"

"The ceremony was…" she broke eye contact "…degrading; let's not revisit that."

Degrading…he didn't like the sound of it all. "Alright…"

"What about you?" she asked. "I'd like to know more about you."

"Me? That's fair, I suppose," he said. "I've been a farm boy my entire childhood in Cyrodiil…joined a militia for our small settlement. Rough spots here and there, but it worked out for the best…."

His face said otherwise.

"You mentioned after we first met that you were Dragonborn," she said. "I'd like to hear your side of it."

"Where to start…you know how the Dragon language first came to mortals, right? There was a book that explained that the 'dragon blood' was first passed to men by Akatosh of the Divines," Jim said. "St. Alessia was said to be the first to receive the gift. Almost every ruler of the Empire was Dragonborn up until two centuries ago. As to why I'm Dragonborn…I have no clue…."

"I'm afraid I'm not good at explaining all this," Jim said. "If you have any more questions, ask them later."

"You've explained enough right now," Serana said. "You should get some rest."

"We can't fall behind on this," Jim said. "Give me a few hours, and we can go…"

* * *

Serana had been awake long enough to know when someone was lying. Jim was holding something back, and not for anything on her account. The way he drank, the look in his brown eyes…it told her that he was trying to put something in the past and leave it there.

Part of her wanted to press the subject, to get him to be completely out with it.

She had no room to talk, considering her family past—a past she took part in. She was glad she didn't pry, with all that in mind.

There was something she noticed about Jim when he spoke to her father. There was an intense resentment, certainly, but it wasn't the type Isran displayed. Whatever Jim's resentment involved, it wasn't over the fact that her father was a vampire.

That was a puzzle she wanted to solve about Jim…


	6. Chapter 6: The Moth Priest

Jim managed three hours of sleep before he and Serana moved on to the College. If there was one person who could tell them anything about the Moth Priest, it was Urag gro-Shub. He's an Orc, and quite a bright one. He had resources that helped Jim track down one particular Elder Scroll, which Jim eventually gave to him for safekeeping.

Jim noticed Urag never left the Arcanaeum. The Orc practically lived there, as far as Jim could tell. Sure enough, he was there.

"Urag," Jim greeted. "I need a word with you."

"What is it?" he replied.

"We're looking for someone," Jim said. "A Moth Priest is in Skyrim. We figured he passed through here, and want to find out where he went."

"What do you want with him?" Urag asked.

"Urag…" Jim started. "You know I wouldn't be asking for information on sensitive matters like this unless there was a very good reason. He may very well have the wrong people after him as we speak."

"I'll tell you, for old time's sake," Urag replied. "He was here, and now he's not. He took off west a couple of days ago, toward Dragon Bridge."

"Thank you," Jim said. He stopped himself walking away, and added. "One more thing: you can expect Shalidor's Insights soon. I'll get it to you next time I pass through."

As they walked off, Serana remarked, "I'm surprised he gave that information easily."

"I may not be Arch-Mage," Jim stated, "but Urag and I have some history together. Besides, it helps to have a good reputation."

* * *

They took the carriage to Solitude, and walked to Dragon Bridge. There was no Moth Priest here, though. They were too late, unless…

"Maybe one of the guards knows something," Serana suggested.

Jim nodded and walked up to one, asking, "Did a Moth Priest pass through here?"

The guard gave a nod, "Past the bridge. You might be able to catch up."

"Thanks," Jim said.

A knot in his stomach formed when he saw the wreckage—someone had ambushed the caravan the Moth Priest was supposedly traveling with. It wasn't bandits…a few feet away from the body of a legionnaire was a slain female vampire. The armor didn't have the markings of the Volkihar Clan, though.

They were hit by vampires of a different faction…

"Looks like we missed a big party," Jim said, searching the body of the vampire for any specific clues. "Hang on…"

He found a note on the body. It was stained with blood, but still legible.

"I have new orders for you.

"Prepare an ambush just south of Dragon Bridge. Take the Moth Priest to Forebears' Holdout for safekeeping until I can break his will.

"-Malkus"

"Forebears' Holdout…" Serana remarked.

"This was a very recent attack, so it means they'll still be there," Jim said. "No doubt they'll pull out all the stops to keep the Moth Priest in their possession: thralls, Death Hounds, maybe even gargoyles."

"You planned all this out ahead of time?" Serana asked.

"Absolutely not, darlin'," Jim said. "I improvise…"

"I guessed as much," Serana said. "And don't call me 'darling'."

Jim felt a smile play across his face. The look on Serana's face was more one of embarrassment than irritation. He said, "Well, let's hurry. Forebears' Holdout can't be that far."

Jim never scouted for Forebears' Holdout before. He didn't need to—a trail of bodies led the duo to the cave.

"Another cave—great…" Serana remarked. "Well, I'm right behind you."

* * *

"Well lit for a cave—that's a plus," Jim remarked after they entered. "It has a small fort, too."

"Hey, do you see that?" Serana asked, pointing at a source of light past the fort in question. The air around it shimmered, the glow being similar to light given off by a Magelight spell.

"Some type of…barrier?" Jim asked.

"I'd say so," Serana replied. "That would be the obvious place to hold the Moth Priest."

"Damn…" Jim cursed, Serana hastily looking at him from the unexpected word.

"More of those Death Hounds," Jim remarked, loading the crossbow. "I don't plan on letting one of those near me. All right, just stay back until I drop them."

From his distance, he was able to drop the two hounds with ease. However, he didn't notice the vampire on patrol who came out of the fort's gate just as he dropped the second hound. By the time he noticed the vampire, it was right up next to him with its maw gaping wide.

A spike of ice hit the vampire in the neck; it would have proved fatal to a mortal, but it simply staggered the vampire away from Jim. It gave him the time needed to drop his crossbow and draw his steel dagger.

While Serana worked her way to Jim, he kicked the vampire in the gut, causing it to double over and attempt to run for help. Jim never gave it the chance, though; he kicked it behind the knee, bent it over and restrained it in a painful hold.

Jim kept the vampire's arm locked to the point where he could bend it the wrong way if needed. He kept the dagger in his left hand, across the throat.

"Start talking," Jim threatened. "The barrier…how do we drop it?"

"I'm loyal," the vampire, a male Breton, replied. "You will get nothing from me, meat."

"Really? Bad answer," Jim said. Applying pressure with his elbow while still maintaining a solid grip, Jim forced the vampire's shoulder loose from his socket. He screeched in pain, the sound echoing through the cave.

"A stone," it said, "Malkus…has it. A socket overlooking…the barrier..."

Jim wasted no time when the thralls turned the corner past the gate. He stabbed the vampire in the back of the head, relying on Serana to cover him with ice spikes while he picked the crossbow back up.

"Looks like I owe you twice," Jim remarked, shooting the crossbow at one of the thralls in the process. It had been Serana who defended him from the vampire that nearly got to his neck; Jim had her stay back for the purpose of keeping her out of harm's way. And yet, he almost got himself hurt—possibly even killed—doing it.

Fat lot he knew about her… or maybe, he still had their conversation from the inn in his head: the ceremony that resulted in Serana's vampirism being "degrading"…

"That doesn't mean you owe me a drink, does it?" she asked, the last thrall dying from her ice spike.

"Maybe…" Jim said casually, like he didn't even care about the implications. "Anyways, let's just stick together from here on."

He stuck to the katana and worked his way past the fort and up the stairs to the barrier, with Serana following close behind. At the top was the Moth Priest within the barrier, itself bring emitted by a number of stone columns with glowing patterns. Clad in white with a shaved head and grey beard, he could easily be twice Jim's age. What was more worrying at the moment, however, was the fact that there were two vampires outside the barrier.

They began their attack-the Orc and the Nord rushed Jim and Serana with Drain Life spells and war axes.

"I'll take this one," Jim said, having blocked the Orc's attack. "Get the other one."

_Malkus, I presume?_ He thought.

Despite being in charge, Malkus really wasn't any bigger of a threat than the vampires he fought earlier. Serana slew the Nord, and Jim killed Malkus one after the other.

"A stone…" Jim said, searching the body. Indeed, he found a stone shaped like a teardrop with etchings on the side that emitted a dull blue-green light, just like the columns. The vampire Jim questioned also mentioned something overlooking the barrier with a slot for the stone—sure enough, stone stairs were nearby leading up to a small standing stone with a similar glow and pattern.

He was ambushed as he reached the top, being grabbed as he faced the standing stone. His neck stung as very sharp teeth punctured skin—some vampire had hid in a patch of darkness and jumped Jim as soon as his back was turned.

The vampire's grip was strong, and Jim didn't have good leverage to shake it off. Fear took over everything, and he was sure that it was all over for him…then the vampire's grip went slack. Fangs slipped out and the vampire was pulled off, dead for good. Jim caught a glimpse of Serana throwing it to the ground just before he blacked out.

* * *

If her heart could still beat, it would give away Serana's utter fear for Jim's safety. She killed the vampire on Jim, but was too late to keep Jim from falling unconscious.

The blood wasn't flowing out too quickly, thankfully. The only thing that put Jim out from blood loss was the vampire itself.

She sighed, breath matching the ambient temperature around them.

She cleaned the wound, holding the urge to bite in at bay, making sure to purge any of the disease he may have contracted in the scuffle. The blood on her tongue…to awaken from her slumber in Dimhollow Crypt, she needed a small but important amount of blood. That it was Jim's blood seemed more than coincidence-one might think of it as destiny…

Jim was there, a presence in her mind. No thoughts, no memories…he was simply there.

She stayed by him until he woke up several minutes later.

* * *

The world slipped in, out of focus. Was he dead? He couldn't tell with how lightheaded he felt—if he was, he definitely wasn't in Sovngarde.

Then, he could make out stone under his gloved hand. He had to wonder…

"Serana?" he tested.

"You're awake…" she replied.

"How- how long have I been out?" Jim asked.

"Several minutes," Serana said. She eased Jim into an upright seated position. "The Moth Priest is still there, don't worry. I'd be more worried if you didn't wake up."

She then said in a rather embarrassed tone, "I- I hope you don't mind that I took care of that wound for you…"

"'Took care'?" he repeated, palming the bite wound. "Did you?"

"Cleaned it," she said. "Made sure you weren't infected."

"Yeah, well," he said sheepishly. "Thanks for helping me."

He ate an apple he kept in his travel supplies, feeling literally "drained" from the blood loss.

"Can you help me up?" he asked.

Serana obliged, helping him to his feet and making sure he could keep his balance. He drew the stone, and placed it in the recess on the standing stone. As suspected, the barrier began to weaken and fade. The duo descended the stairs…

The Moth Priest attacked as they approached, movement much like a puppet. He fought with a katana similar to Jim's, but also was trained in the use of fire-based spells. Jim dove out of the way along with Serana, sheathing his katana.

He had to fight hand-to-hand; clearly, the man was enthralled. Jim didn't want to risk permanent damage—just knock him back to his senses.

"FUS!" Jim Shouted, deliberately avoiding the other words—the priest staggered, and Jim took the opportunity to rush him. Jim aimed his knee at the gut, further staggering the priest but holding short. He then delivered an open palm strike to the side of the head, and followed with a grab.

He followed the priest to the floor, crouched and still keeping a firm grip.

"Wait! Stop, I yield," the priest said. "That-that wasn't me you were fighting."

"I figured as much," Jim said, loosening his grip. He let the old man go when he felt there was no further threat from him.

The Moth Priest stood, dusting off his white robes. "Thank the divines for you…"

"Are you alright?" Jim asked, aware of Serana coming up next to him.

"I am, thanks to you," he replied. "Dexion Evicus is my name—I am a Moth Priest of the White Gold Tower. These vampires claimed they had some purpose in store for me, but they wouldn't say what…"

"They must have wanted you for the same reason we were looking for you," Jim said.

"You do? Alright then…enough mysteries," Dexion said.

"I'm here representing an order called the Dawnguard," Jim said. "We need you to read an Elder Scroll."

"You have an Elder Scroll? Remarkable," Dexion replied. "If my knowledge of history serves me, I recall that the Dawnguard was an ancient order of vampire hunters. I would be happy to assist you—where do I need to go?"

"You can find us at Fort Dawnguard," Jim said. "Near Stendarr's Beacon; I would move quickly before the friends of these vampires show up."

"Very well," Dexion acknowledged. "But, what about your…companion?"

Jim looked at Serana. It was obvious that Dexion caught on to the fact that she was a vampire. Jim said, "She's completely trustworthy."

Dexion nodded, and set off.

"What about you?" Jim asked Serana. "I didn't hurt you with that dive, did I?"

"Look who you're talking to…" Serana trailed off. She then smiled, "Thanks for asking, though."

"Gonna need a big drink after today…" Jim remarked. "What do you say we get outta here?"

"Right behind you," Serana said.


	7. Chapter 7: Recollection

**Author's note:**

**Sorry about the relative low action in this one. I feel a little bit of exposition is appropriate**

* * *

The "big drink" that Jim mentioned was from The Winking Skeever in Solitude, where they stopped by after the skirmish in Forebears' Holdout. Serana made note of what Jim did while in Solitude. He drank and exchanged rumors like many others, checked stores for supplies, and even performed repairs on his own armor.

What struck her most, however, was how he treated the children around town.

Serana's own childhood was checkered-between her father's obsessions with power and her mother's determination to see him fail, Serana felt like she was denied from having a family. Not simply a family; the way things were before…vampirism came into their lives.

Jim was a shrewd mercenary, but the job was simply a label. Selflessness, compassion, and honor—he displayed all that.

Jim's actions toward the children—they had gentleness that brought one word to Serana's mind: "father".

* * *

Before the set off for the Rift the next day, Jim went to eat at The Winking Skeever. Serana came, too—Proudspire Manor was too big for her to feel comfortable. Sure, her family's castle was bigger, but there were at least a big number of occupants there.

Jim figured it was because Serana didn't feel comfortable around Jordis the Sword-Maiden.

"Hey," Serana said, as they waited at the table.

"Yeah?" was his reply.

"Is this a good time to ask you more questions?" Serana asked.

Jim chuckled, taking a sip of mead.

"I'm all ears, beautiful," he quipped.

"Isn't that a little uncalled for? Beautiful?" she responded.

"What? Is there something else you want me to call you?"

"How about by my name?" she asked.

"Calm down, gorgeous. I didn't mean anything by it."

"There you go again!" she said sharply.

"Oh, for crying out…" he caught himself. "Fine. If it'll make you feel better, you call me something. Go ahead—come on, I can take it."

"Pushy thug," she quipped.

Against her expectations, Jim chuckled. "Is that your idea of an insult? C'mon, I know you can think of better than that."

"Brainless, tick-ridden saber-cat!" Serana said.

"Ouch…" Jim trailed. "That _is_ better. Well, I bet 'beautiful' doesn't sound so bad by comparison, does it?"

She laughed; a sweet, melodic laugh despite his tease. "You are a big pain, you know that?"

"Guilty," Jim admitted. "I'll bet you still have those questions, though. Are they really necessary?"

"I just want to know more about you, that's all," Serana said.

"Oh, if it's a little 'interrogation' you want, why didn't you say so?" he asked. "Just joking—go ahead."

"You mentioned rough times after life as a soldier," Serana asked. "I'd like to hear about that."

Jim gave a soft grunt as he changed his seating, leaning back against the chair. If looks said anything, he looked like he was about to give his life's story—which he wasn't.

"Well, during my time in the militia, we were something like conscripts to the Imperial Legion," he started. "I made a friend in the Legion, name was Titus. Hated the Thalmor as much as I did..."

"Thalmor?" Serana asked.

"Right…I didn't explain that," he said. "You see, there was a war that ended thirty years ago, between the Empire and the Aldmeri Dominion—some high elves got it in their heads that elves were the dominant race in all of Tamriel. The Summerset Isles and Valenwood merged to become the Dominion, and they declared war on the Empire. Ultimately, the Empire was forced to sign a peace treaty; they called it the White Gold Concordat. One of the terms was the abolishment of Talos worship."

"I heard about that," she said.

"Anyway," he went on. "That didn't go over so well with Titus and me. Now Titus…he always had these get-rich-quick schemes. Many of them put us on the wrong side of the law…"

"You were a criminal?"

"Shocking, huh?" Jim asked. "Anyways, Titus and I played 'Gray Fox' and 'freedom fighters' for the next couple years. We hit the Dominion any chance we got—I was in the shadows, though. Titus was the one most wanted; the Dominion demanded his capture or death, or else martial law would be declared."

"What happened next?"

"The Legion caught us," he said. "I'm free because of Titus…he stayed behind during our final job, going to prison in my stead."

"Titus doesn't sound like that type of man," Serana commented. "Why the change?"

"A month before I got the news," Jim said, hesitant to talk. He worked up the courage, and said, "My father passed away, in failing health. He left one last letter for me…. He said that he was ashamed of the path I was on, that he couldn't accept the money I sent home—it was blood money. He said that I could still choose to change my life—that all it took was a thought. I…"

He choked on his words, a lone tear falling past his cheek and even more threatened to fall.

Serana was the third person he shared this tale of his with, right after Lydia and Aela. He hated it—dropping his laid back demeanor, letting his haunted heart out. But even more was bottled up in his heart—and, like a dragon's leg, it threatened to crush what remained of his will to live and at long last kill him.

"I was ashamed of myself," he said. "I then stayed with my mother until she passed away a few weeks later…"

"Jim…" Serana trailed off.

"Titus…he found out about my parents; he sacrificed his freedom to give me the chance to change—we once agreed that he never did a noble thing in his life," Jim said. "Changing was exactly what I ended up doing…I was a good soldier—a reliable one-so when the Count of Bruma offered me position of guard captain in exchange for my criminal record being wiped clean, I accepted."

"During that new life was when…" he trailed off.

"That was when what?"

"That was when I met my wife," he stated hesitantly, sounding dead with each word.

"Jim, I'm sorry," she said. He looked at her, but she had her eyes down at the table. "I didn't mean to bring up any bad memories."

"Serana…" he choked. "Can we…can we drop this for now? Please?"

He felt a cold hand rest on his own and followed it to Serana, whose eyes were locked with his own. They were fire, and simply looking her in the eyes gave him a feeling of comfort and warmth. He felt his heart rush as he read some remorse in her eyes, as well as empathy. For a minute, he could swear he was looking at Liddy for the first time in years.

"Jim…" she trailed. "Alright…"

"Thank you," he said. "Hmmm…we should get going. Dexion should be at Fort Dawnguard."

* * *

They arrived later that day at nightfall. There were several barricades and stone walls set up—it seems that in their absence, Isran took the time to have the Dawnguard set up defenses in case of another vampire raid.

A Nord woman with blond hair was keeping watch; she may have been middle aged with her facial features. Those eyes of hers looked at Serana with clear distrust; holding back because Isran ordered it and that she really didn't seem to like the idea of dealing with Jim.

If the Dragonborn himself was willing to take a chance with trusting a vampire, how could she argue with him?

"You're back," Isran said, drawing Jim's attention.

"I trust he got back alright…" Jim trailed.

"Yes," Isran confirmed. "And he's waiting for your word to start the reading—in the main atrium."

Jim nodded—he and Serana followed Isran into the fort.

Dexion Evicus stood a short ways from the main entrance inside, not quite in the center.

"I see you made it," Jim remarked.

"Good to see you again," Dexion said.

"Did my employers make you feel welcome?" Jim asked.

"It's not the hospitality I'm use to, but Isran has seen to my needs well enough," he replied. "And, if I may add: this is a remarkable fortress. I have colleagues back home that would love to study this place in detail."

"Serana…" Jim trailed. She knew what he meant, handing the Elder Scroll to Dexion. Jim knew from experience that those scroll weighed a great deal—far more than any regular scroll.

"This is the scroll that needs to be read," Jim said. "Anytime you're ready…"

"Indeed," Dexion said. "Let's find out what secrets the scroll can tell."

Jim stood back with Serana and Isran, giving Dexion space to concentrate. Jim noticed a few other members of the Dawnguard that were not actively working were present. A dead hush filled the room, and Dexion began the reading:

_"I see a vision before me, an image of a great bow. I know this weapon! It is Auriel's Bow! Now a voice whispers, saying "Among the night's children, a dread lord will rise". In an age of strife, when dragons return to the realm of men, darkness will mingle with light and the night and day will be as one._

_"The voice fades and the words begin to shimmer and distort. But wait, there is more here. The secret of the bow's power is written elsewhere. I think there is more to the prophecy, recorded in other scrolls. Yes, I see them now... One contains the ancient secrets of the dragons, and the other speaks of the potency of ancient blood._

_My vision darkens, and I see no more. To know the complete prophecy, we must have the other two scrolls._"

"I…" Dexion trailed after finishing. "I must rest now…the reading has made me weary."

The small audience began to disperse, filled with more questions than there were answers. Two more Elder Scrolls…

"Well…" Jim said. "That wasn't quite as helpful as I hoped."

"Two more scrolls…" Isran said.

"Yeah…I happen to know where one is," Jim said. "We'll have to talk to Urag at the College of Winterhold again. But unless we can find that last one, we're at a dead end. Then again, so are _they_."

"I seriously doubt we'll get anywhere simply sweeping the entire province," Isran said. "Too much ground to cover, and there's too much that can go wrong. So then…it's down to you again, Ridley. You surprised me before—do it again."

* * *

Isran walked out, and Jim took a seat on one of the benches on the atrium's outer edge. Serana sat down next to him.

"Well, we know where one is," Jim said. "That leaves one to go. What next: draw straws on where to look?"

"I may have an idea on where to look," she said.

"It seems like you would have brought this up already…"

"I would have," she started. "Except that half these people would just as soon kill me as talk to me. That doesn't exactly make me want to open up. Even my father gave a warmer welcome."

"What is it between you two?" Jim asked.

"Well, you know already: we drifted apart ever since he decided to make that prophesy his calling. I don't think he even sees me as his daughter anymore. I'm just…a means to an end."

"Damn him," Jim cursed under his breath.

"Sorry," he added. "So, where can we find this Elder Scroll?"

"We need to find my mother, Valerica. She'll know for sure where it is, and if we're lucky, she'll actually have it herself. When I last saw her, she said she'd go somewhere safe…somewhere where my father would never search," she said. "The way she said it was cryptic, yet she called attention to it."

"Sounds like she was being cautious," Jim said. "Where wouldn't he look? If he's already tearing Skyrim inside out looking for it…Wait a minute…"

"You have any ideas?"

"He's so preoccupied checking the rest of Skyrim, he may not have thought to look right under his own nose—in Castle Volkihar itself," Jim concluded.

"That…that almost makes sense!" she said. "There's a courtyard in the castle I used to help her tend a garden there. All of the ingredients for our potions came from there. She used to say that my father couldn't stand the place. Too…peaceful."

"Sound pretty risky staying there," Jim said. "Still, if there's a chance—however small—I'm willing to take it. But how would we get in? It's not like we can walk in through the front door..."

"True, but there is another way in," Serana said. "There's an unused inlet on the northern side of the island. It was used by the previous owners to bring supplies into the castle. An old escape tunnel from the castle exits there."

"Well then," Jim said with a smile. "That's our ticket inside. You sold me…let's go, Serana."

* * *

**Comment: You won't be getting chapter eight for a while-college is one big butcher. I'll need to actually make the character unless someone can link a transcript, and play through the main quest again.**


	8. Chapter 8: Infiltration

**Well, you've waited for the next chapter. Here it is-you'll notice that it's a bit more hasty than most others. That would be a by-product of me trying to move the plot along.**

* * *

Because Jim tried to get as much sleep as he could manage to make up for how drained he felt—quite literally—it took just over two days to reach the island where Volkihar Castle was. To Jim's relief, Serana didn't bring up his past during their trip. Even so, he could feel a chill down his spine as though he could _feel_ her gaze on her.

The feeling was very disconcerting…. He just wanted to vent his past out—he wasn't seeking pity.

"Everything from the landing is a sheer cliff wall," Jim observed. "Everything except the path to the left…that's where the inlet is, right?"

"Yes," Serana said. "There's a dock and a stairway up. The door on the second floor will get us in."

They walked the path that Jim saw, not drawing the attention of the inert gargoyle statues.

"Damn," Jim commented. "The castle definitely looks much bigger from down here."

With the exception of the inlet ahead as well as the guard tower near the landing, the castle was built on the cliffs of the island. The function was not all that different from Solitude, which stood on a natural archway—when the waves picked up in fierce storms, they would simply hit the cliffside and leave the castle unharmed.

It also meant that it was a bit more protected from naval bombardment. But how would it fare against a dragon?

Jim could make out several skeletons keeping watch on the various floors of the castle docks.

"Looks like a welcome party," Jim said, unconcerned. "Shouldn't be tough…"

"Jim, don't take this lightly," Serana said. "A few skeletons won't pose a threat, but there is bound to be worse inside the castle."

He nodded. "Let's not keep them waiting."

Jim grinned when he noticed how open the area was. There were two skeletons easily visible, one on the docking area and one on the switchback between floors.

"How's your aim with that ice spike of yours?" Jim asked.

"About as good as you are with your crossbow," she replied. "You think what I'm thinking?"

"Drop them at the same time?" Jim asked. "Yeah…on three…"

This idea worked out flawlessly. As they climbed the stairs, a lone skeleton remained on the opposite side. It simply fired poorly aimed arrows with little regard for stealth. It disregarded self-preservation as well, since Jim fired yet another crossbow bolt that it never bothered to dodge.

"Nice hit, by the way," Jim commented. "You could give some of the Legion's finest archers a run for their gold."

"It wasn't _that_ good of a hit," Serana replied. "But…thanks."

The door was locked, and Jim didn't have much experience with picking locks. Fortunately, Serana was carrying a key for it.

"Harkon struck me as paranoid," Jim said. "I'm surprised you have a key for this at all."

"I had it while I was still asleep," she replied. "It must not have occurred to him to take it away from me—probably didn't think this part of the castle had anything useful."

He took out a flask of mead, taking less than half a mouthful. It did help to flush some of the cold out of his body, though he didn't usually drink in the field.

"Here's to hoping we prove him wrong," he said, showing some of his intent behind the action.

* * *

Jim grimaced inside once the smell hit his nose—sewage and rotting bodies. The area around them actually reminded him of Potema's Catacombs, which ran all under Solitude. And, much like here, it was infested with the undead.

The lone skeever he killed just as they entered was the last thing he felt they would come across. He supposed that he was expecting something more dangerous than a skeever.

"That stench…" Jim trailed off. "A water cistern, I suppose…"

"Right," Serana replied. "On some days the smell would be…just be glad you weren't here then."

"Can't imagine it was pleasant," Jim said. "Judging from the smell now, this hasn't seen cleaning in centuries. And—on top of that—I smell those damn hounds."

"How?" she asked. "You smell perfectly human…"

"Sniffing me, are we?" he asked.

"That's not what I meant!" she snapped defensively.

"I know," he said with a chuckle. "It's just something left over from lycanthropy."

He cracked open the door at the bottom of the stairs, as she trailed, "So, then…you were a werewolf."

"Yeah," he admitted. "The sleepless nights and desire to hunt was getting to me, though. It's gotten me out of bad situations, though—I won't lie about that."

He added, "Company…"

There were four Death Hounds in total that attacked as soon as they entered the cistern area.

Jim could notice that, much like vampires, Death Hounds were resistant to frost-based spells. In fact, they had frost cloak spells that were about as frigid as their bites. Serana knew this, as she switched over to lightning spells.

She must not know flame spells.

All of this went through Jim's head as they fought off the hounds. Taking two on his own—and learning from past experience—he sidestepped all attempts to bite him.

When all was said and done, the hounds lay well and truly dead. Serana was as graceful in melee combat as she was with magic—not one bit tired.

There was a balcony up ahead at an intersection. To the left was a sealed portcullis, while the right led to stairs to the balcony above. Portcullises like these were often operated by lever or pull-chain. Jim was more than willing to bet that there was a lever above—he climbed the stairs, only to stop midway before the second flight of stairs.

Cold breath…he felt it hit the back of his neck. Looking out of the corner of his eye, Jim drove the hilt of his katana into the stomach of the vampire behind him.

Altmer female, shaved-head and driven entirely by instinct—it attempted to stay in shadow to pounce Jim when he passed. He wasn't an idiot, though—he learned from Forebears' Holdout. It doubled over, and Jim took advantage of the situation with a vertical slash. Blood flowed from the long gash—from the chest, past the throat and all the way to the chin. He drew the dagger and drove it in through the eye for good measure.

"That…" Jim stated. "That must not have been one of Harkon's. This was little more than an animal—must not have met his standards."

"Anyone outside my father's court is a lesser vampire," Serana said. "That's the way he sees it."

"Let's keep moving," Jim said.

Jim's intuition proved spot on, as there was a lever on the balcony overlooking the portcullis—needless to say: it operated the mechanism for the portcullis.

From there, everything was straightforward. They cut their way through several more Death Hounds and skeleton, as well as a Frostbite Spider. There was yet another hurdle on the way, in the form of a stone drawbridge. The spider had been the one guarding the lever controlling it.

There was a passageway at the end of the bridge leading upstairs to a door…

* * *

They emerged outdoors under cover of night. It was a courtyard—might have seen good use back in its day. It was in complete shambles now, with dead trees and plants all around.

"Oh no…" Serana trailed. "What happened to this place?"

"Looks…dead," Jim remarked. "Looks like it hasn't been maintained for…centuries…"

"It's like we're the first to set foot here for that long," she said, echoing his thoughts.

"I can see why," Jim said, walking up a set of stairs to a pile of rubble blocking a large set of double doors.

"That used to lead to the great hall," Serana said. "Looks like my father had it sealed up."

Walking around the courtyard with Jim following her to where the dead plants were, she added, "I used to walk through here after evening meals. It was beautiful, once. This was my mother's garden. It…" she choked. "Do you know how beautiful something can be when it's tended by a master for hundreds of years?"

"This courtyard is massive, if this small part was a beautiful garden…" Jim trailed off, standing next to Serana. He had a reassuring hand on her shoulder—nothing flirtatious about it.

"I can hardly imagine what it would look like if the entire courtyard was alive with this garden…it sure must have been something. But, looking at it now…"

Serana nodded. "My mother would have hated to see it like this…"

Something drew her attention.

"Wait…" she said, walking to the large dial in the center. It was like a sundial, except with the phases of the moon. "Something's wrong with the moondial here. Some of the crests are missing and the dial is askew—I didn't even know the crests could be removed."

"A puzzle…" Jim trailed off. "A moondial seems like an insignificant thing—I doubt anyone would think to look for the crests…unless…"

"Unless?" Serana asked.

"A lot of tombs I've explored use this one type of mechanic—replace what's missing and a passage of some kind will open. It's a long shot, but it's all we have to go on right now," Jim said. "These crests might still be in this courtyard—can't be _too_ out of the way."

Three crests were missing: a crescent, a half moon, and a full moon. It turns out, they really _weren't_ that hard to find. In fact, one may as well have been straight in the open. Jim took the crests and placed them in their spots—with the unmistakable sound of machinery moving, the dial shifted position toward the full moon. The stone formed stairs around the column that acted as the dial's point of rotation.

"Just like that…" Jim trailed off.

"Very clever, mother," Serana commented. "Very clever…"

She added, "I've never been in those tunnels before, but I'd bet they run right under the courtyard and into the castle ruins."

"We're getting closer—I can tell," Jim commented. "We should keep moving."

* * *

The bottom of the stairs had a door, beyond which lay a seemingly dead-end room. Except that there was a pull-chain by that "dead end" which moved the wall. From the other side, Jim figured no one would have thought there was a passage.

Whatever architect design this area of the castle implemented all the classic "dungeon" conventions—there were tables with blood on them, though that may have been part of Harkon's twisted decoration, assuming he had ever been in this part of the castle.

As for Valerica…she had very artful placements of secret passages.

"You ever been in this part of the castle before?" Jim asked, grimacing at the stench of decay.

"No," Serana. "Be careful—I don't know what might be around…"

More skeletons were around in a dining hall at the top of the stairs, for one. And for another thing, there were several gargoyles right along the path they needed to go.

Jim and Serana eventually fought their way to a room with a pair of coffins and several gargoyles. It may very well have once been Harkon and Valerica's quarters before the castle fell into disrepair—the armor on the dresser which resembled Harkon's attire was compelling evidence of the idea.

Four gargoyles ambushed them by pairs—during the fight, the shoulder pad of Jim's armor began to crack ever so slightly. It would hold, thankfully, assuming it didn't take a very bad strike later on.

"This _can't_ be a dead end," Jim said after the fight. "The defenses here are too strong for that—wherever your mother hid, it's obvious that she wanted _nobody_ to find her."

"You think there's another hidden passage…" Serana commented. It wasn't a question—she read his expression.

"After the moondial…" Jim said. "I wouldn't put it past her."

He walked over toward the fireplace and—in an action reminiscent of a mystery story—pulled each fixed candlestick on the wall. One of them moved, lifting the wall that the fireplace was.

"Obvious," Jim said. "It's a wonder no one else came through here first…"

"Leave it to my mother," Serana said. "She was always smarter than I gave her credit for."


	9. Chapter 9: Nothing to Lose

**Author's note: You'll notice with this chapter that it takes place at one specific scene. I feel that some development is needed following the relative haste of the last chapter. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter.**

* * *

The stairs behind the false wall led up to some type of laboratory, filled with all manner of alchemy reagents. What caught Jim's eye was something in the center of the room, surrounded by a ring of candles. The way it looked would suggest a stairway, except that it led nowhere.

"Look at this place," Serana said. "This has to be it!"

"This?" Jim asked. "This is what your mother wanted you to find?"

"I knew she was deep into necromancy," she continued. "I mean, she taught me everything I know—I had no idea she had a setup like this."

Jim decided to let her talk. Serana seemed genuinely intrigued by what they were seeing here. In the meantime, he took a look at the shelves near where they entered. Many of the titles were fairly common in any bookstore. One of the books was unmarked—Jim drew it from the shelf.

"Look at all this—she must have spent years collecting these components," she said. "But this circle; I'm not sure what it is…but it's obviously something."

Maybe he needed to be a necromancer to understand, but the concepts present in the book were plain…otherworldly. Not as incomprehensible as Septimus Signus's writing, but still extremely difficult to follow.

Maybe Serana could make sense of it…

"I think I got a lead here," Jim said, offering the book to Serana. "It's your mother's journal, isn't it?"

"Yeah…" she responded. "Let me see it."

"So…" Jim trailed. "I don't know the first thing about necromancy. What's this 'Soul Cairn' mentioned in the journal?"

"I only know what she told me," Serana replied. "She had a theory about soul gems: that the souls inside them don't just vanish when they're used—they end up in the Soul Cairn."

"Why did this interest her so much?"

"The Soul Cairn is home to very powerful beings. Necromancers send them souls, and receive powers of their own in return," she answered. "My mother spent a lot of time trying to contact them directly—to travel to the Soul Cairn itself."

"So then this circle is some type of portal to the Soul Cairn?" Jim said. "Does the journal give any direction on how to use it?"

"If I'm reading this right, there's a formula here that should grant us safe passage into the Soul Cairn," she said. "We need a handful of soul gem shards, some finely-ground bone meal, a good bit of void salts…damn it. We're at a dead end…"

"Why?"

"We're also going to need a sample of her blood," she answered. "We wouldn't even be trying this in the first place if we could get that."

"Dead end…" Jim trailed off. "No, hold on…. Think about it, Serana. We need a sample of her blood…but you're her daughter—you share her blood…"

"Jim, that's…not a bad thought," Serana replied. "We'd better hope that's good enough—mistakes with these kinds of portals can be…gruesome."

"That leaves the rest of the ingredients, then," Jim said. "Would all of them be in the lab?"

"Definitely," Serana said. "She has them organized—should be easy to find."

* * *

The ingredients were in plain sight, within several prominent bowls. He gathered them up and put them in the vessel on the next floor up, as instructed.

"The rest is up to me, I guess," Serana said.

"Listen," Jim said. "Before we go through with this, I wanted to ask you something…"

"Of course," she said. "What is it?"

"Serana, what will you do if we find your mother?" he asked.

She tensed. "I've been asking myself the same thing since we came back to the castle. She was so sure of what we did to my father—I couldn't help but go along with her. I never thought of the cost…"

"You mean being sealed away?"

"That too…" she trailed.

"Did she give you any choice in the matter?" he asked. To her confused expression, he added, "Even if it was to protect you, did she ever give you a say? Serana, please…I need to know."

"I…" she trailed. "I was never given a choice—neither did I think it was best to argue. If it was for my sake all along…"

"I can understand why, if that's true," Jim said. "But I can't agree with how she went about it…"

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"It's…" he hesitated. "It's probably best to get this done first—let's find your mother, and I'll tell you everything."

His eyes locked with hers and he said, "That's a promise…"

She nodded, and continued on with the formula.

Approaching the vessel, she bit her wrist to draw blood and to allow it to drip into the mix.

He choked on his flask when he heard stone move, and when he saw the eerie light come from the circle…which seemed to be opening.

"By the blood of my ancestors…" Serana said. "She actually did it—she created a portal to the Soul Cairn. Incredible!"

"This can't be real…" Jim trailed. "But it _is_ real. The Nine help us all…"

"I should go first—make sure it's safe," Jim said after clearing his throat. "If anything happens, I'm counting on you."

He took a step down the stairs as she nodded. He hardly even got halfway when something happened. An indefinable pain and stiffness shot through his body, starting from his chest—a sensation filled him, as though he was being yanked into the portal despite remaining as he was on the stairway.

An aura from the portal flew toward him, surrounding him. His heart ceased a proper beat, and began throbbing.

He was dying!

Suddenly, just as his knees buckled, he was grabbed from behind and pulled back up the stairway. The tug toward the portal was gone, and his heart began to beat more smoothly as he got farther—in place of the pain was numbness as his vision faded in and out.

He saw Serana crouched over him the minute his vision cleared.

"Are you all right?" she asked, frantically. "That looked painful…"

"Understatement," Jim groaned as he sat up. "Absorbing all those dragon souls…I guess I just found out what it feels like to them. What in Oblivion happened to me?"

"I should have expected that earlier…" she trailed. "I'm sorry—it was exactly like you said. It's hard to explain. The Soul Cairn is…hungry, for lack of a better word. It was trying to take your life essence as payment."

"So, there's no way in for me…" Jim said.

"There might be," Serana replied. "I don't think you're going to like either way, though. Vampires aren't counted among the living—I could probably go through there without a problem. There's that, or we could just "pay the toll" another way. It wants a soul, so we give it a soul—yours."

"My soul…Are you serious?" Jim complained. "You saw what happened there—I nearly died! How would we manage that without killing me?"

"Jim, please let me explain," Serana said, trying to keep him calm. "My mother taught me a trick or two—I could partially soul trap you and then offer that soul gem to the Ideal Masters. It should be enough to satisfy them—the problem is that it might make you weaker while we travel through the Soul Cairn, but we might be able to fix that once we're inside…"

"Those are my only options?" Jim asked.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "I wish I knew a better way…something that would be easier for you." She then reassured him. "I want you to know that whatever you choose, I won't think any less of you—some things just need to be done."

* * *

He hesitated—Jim simply leaned against the banister, looking deeply into the portal. Serana had several things running through her mind—this man has been though several trials and triumphs with her so far. It wasn't that he didn't trust her—he feared losing what kept him…well, himself.

Then she saw him handle the ring he carried on a chain around his neck, with the light from the portal highlighting the most prominent scar on his face—a diagonal cut from the bridge of his nose to under his right eye.

He mentioned a wife before…the ring was a wedding ring.

"Damn," he muttered, shaking Serana from her thoughts. "I don't see a better choice—I'll have to become a vampire."

He gave a bitter chuckle, "Besides, I owe you that drink."

Did he really just crack a joke about this?

"Jim, please be serious about this," Serana said. "You're saying you'll become the very thing the Dawnguard have sworn to destroy. And what about you?"

"Serana…" Jim started. "I'm a mercenary—you know that. I took a job with the Dawnguard for payment, because I cannot fuel a resistance against the Dominion on ideas alone. But after everything that's happened: seeing Harkon for the first time, listening to Dexion's reading, even talking to you…"

A single tear streamed across his scar, down his cheek as he said, "After all that, all I really know I need to do is to stop the ambitions of a madman—vampire or not…no offense."

"No, I understand," Serana said.

"As long as I can do that," he said. "I guess I don't really care what happens to me—whether I live or die. I have nothing to lose from all this—I took my shot at a normal life years ago, Serana…"

He looked at her, "There's no going back for me…"

"Turning someone is a very…personal thing for vampires," she said. "It's intimate—for us. I don't want to feel like I'm forcing you into this."

Her mother once described the importance of blood to her—said that it was what set them apart from other vampires. She said that for vampires like them, blood was more than simply food to survive. Blood _was_ another person—it was an imperfect copy of the soul and mind of that person. Most vampires don't realize this, being simply obsessed with food and survival—vampires who were sadistic or otherwise were controlled by instinct.

In turning Jim, Serana would risk invading everything about his being: his emotions, his memories, and his drives—his very essence would be present in her.

"In that case," he replied. "I'm glad you're the one doing it."

"I promise to try and make this as painless as possible," she said. "Keep still…"

He stood upright, eyes closed as she embraced him. He was so warm—but that warmth quickly faded after she sank her teeth into his neck.

The emotions of a broken man filled her mind: heartache, longing, and hatred—hatred not for Serana, her father, or vampires…hatred toward himself.

* * *

He felt so lightheaded—more so than after the ambush in Forebears' Holdout.

Everything felt so distant, including his past. This feeling as everything slid into focus…he wasn't sure he wanted it at all. Then he felt several things gnaw at his mind—a thirst, for one thing. It should be obvious why, but there was something else he couldn't place his finger on.

Then he realized that everything around him seemed bright as day, and he no longer felt the need to shiver in the cold that surrounded them.

"Serana…" Jim asked, noticing that she was still embracing him. "Am I still…me?"

"I know it's frightening, Jim," she replied. "But don't be afraid—you're still the man I first met. I swear it…"

"Serana…" he trailed off, a gentleness in his voice. Clearing his throat, he said, "We…should get going."

She nodded, and they went into the portal, side-by-side.

One thing caught his attention when she was still holding him-she was crying. For the damn life of him, he couldn't figure out why...

* * *

**Note: The mention of blood is-according to a group of Hellsing fan-translators-a Rician metaphor where blood carries and transmits memories that act like much like undeveloped film, but lack the original consciousness, creating a copy of the mind. **

**Applied to this case, Jim resides within Serana's mind, and she understands him almost perfectly.  
**


	10. Chapter 10: A Father's Guilt

If there was a thing as eternal darkness, Jim was sure they had found it. A chill ran through him despite not caring about heat—the Soul Cairn was a wasteland dotted with several ruined structures. The stonework seemed older than ancient Nordic and Dwemer combined.

What bothered him most were the people, or—more appropriately—what remained of their souls.

"The souls here…" Jim trailed. "Such a cruel fate…"

"This place…" Serana said. "The air…the ground…this is all wrong…"

"What could drive a person to do this to others?" Jim asked. "Much less come here themselves…"

"Power," Serana answered. "A hunger for power—necromancy pursued out of ambition. It's a form of magic—a tool. All this power…it shouldn't have to cost all this."

Jim could have sworn that she sounded a little remorseful, being a necromancer herself.

"Let's do this quickly," Jim said. "I really don't want to stick around here longer than I need to."

"Agreed…" she responded.

"From the top of the stairs at the portal, I caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a spire," Jim commented. "There was also a very large structure nearby—looked like the Arena in the Imperial city."

"An arena?" Serana asked.

"Right, the Imperial City in Cyrodiil has an arena," Jim said. "I don't know if that thing is actually an arena. Still, it looks like the type of place you'd take shelter in. If your mother is here, she may have gone to that building…"

"Jim…" Serana started. "How can you be sure? What if she isn't there?"

"I'm _not_ sure—that's the thing," Jim answered. "Call it a hunch, if you like. If she isn't there…well, then we're stuck searching without a lead to go on—like finding a needle in a haystack…"

The path was obviously heading toward that direction, heading under several archways and up stairs through what was clearly a fort wall. The number of souls around didn't diminish as the two pushed forward—Jim struggled to keep focused and to ignore the fate that befell them.

Just as they passed under a specific archway, Jim saw an unusual sphere of light approach. Taking Serana in his arms, he moved them against the column as the sphere wandered aimlessly past them—it didn't turn back, and didn't seem to be a threat.

"I can't hear your heart beat…" Serana said, having turned her ear to his chest with the movement. She sounded regretful, and then slipped free of Jim's hold.

"It's strange hearing those words," Jim said, looking down at his hands. "I didn't have a lot of choice—and I'm sure I wouldn't have chosen vampirism freely if things were different—but…something about this feels…well, not wrong. I know the hunger will catch up, but I don't feel the need to kill…"

"It affects us all differently, Jim," Serana said. "You saw what happened to my father—he was drunk for power even before vampirism. Becoming a vampire…made him worse. You…you have a strong will and strict values—you've carried that into undeath. What others see vampires as—monsters—you're not one. I could never see you as being any different in a century from who you are now."

"You said 'who,' not 'what'…" Jim said. "So, it's all about who—not what…"

Serana nodded, and he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. That sad look…it was there again.

_Why?_ Jim thought.

* * *

They traveled deeper and deeper into the Soul Cairn, with Jim always keeping a hand on the hilt of his katana. They hadn't been met by resistance yet—it was strange. It might have been luck, or whatever resided here was probably waiting to catch them off guard.

They went under an archway and were extremely close to the arena. Jim noticed a shimmer of magic at the top of the stairs, glowing similarly to the portal that led to the Soul Cairn.

"Serana," Jim started. "Look at that—it looks like another barrier."

"Looks designed to hem someone in," she commented. "That, and keep others out in the process…"

"Maybe this has something to do with those 'Ideal Masters' you mentioned," Jim said. "It's possible that your mother is on the other side of that barrier."

They climbed the stairs up. Serana bolted away, having caught sight of someone.

"Mother?" she asked, in a frantic tone. "Mother?!"

Jim saw what she did: the woman she ran toward on the other side of the ward—she was dressed in attire identical to Serana.

"Maker…it can't be…" the woman trailed. "Serana!?"

The tone of voice was unmistakable: she disapproved of the situation at hand. Jim knew instantly that they found the right person—Valerica.

Her appearance reflected what her voice did—she must have been about middle age or older when she became a vampire. Much like Serana, she had dark hair; her hair was gathered in buns, rather than braids. They were gathered toward the back and upward—it looked crown-like.

Her facial features were sunken and marred by wrinkles—though it wasn't impossible for Jim to imagine what she may have looked like in her prime. Save for a few minor differences, it would be as if Serana were looking into a mirror.

"Is it really you!?" Serana asked, somewhat managing to sound happy, yet almost intimidated. "I can't believe it! How do we get inside? We need to talk."

"Serana…" Valerica started. "What are you doing here? Where's your father?"

"He doesn't know we're here," Serana answered. "I don't have time to explain."

"I must have failed—Harkon's found a way to decipher the prophecy, hasn't he?" she sighed.

Serana shook her head in reply, saying, "No, you've got it all wrong—we're here to stop him…to make everything right."

It was then that Valerica's eyes moved to Jim, in clear contempt. "You've bought a stranger here?" she asked. "Serana, have you lost your mind?"

"No, you don't…"

"You," Valerica snapped at Jim, cutting Serana off. "Step forward, hunter. I would speak to you…"

Jim stood forward, fearless and ready to justify himself.

"So, how has it come to pass that a vampire hunter is in the company of my daughter?" she asked—an obvious rhetorical question. "It pains me to think you'd travel with Serana under the guise of her protector in an effort to hunt me down."

"And you're one to talk?" Jim accused. "For your information, your efforts to 'protect' your daughter from Harkon would have failed if I hadn't stepped in. You had her sealed away in that crypt for Talos knows how long—you expect me to think you did it to protect her? Or was it just that damn scroll you were protecting? You have _no_ room to judge me!"

"It _was_ to protect her!" she defended. "The scrolls are merely a means to an end—Serana herself is the key to the prophecy. She's a daughter of Coldharbor, a pure vampire. The second Scroll declares that 'The blood of Coldharbor's daughter will blind the eye of the dragon.' The other scroll I presume you found speaks of Auriel's Bow."

"And how does Serana fit into all this?" Jim asked.

"Like myself, Serana was a human once," she explained. "We were devout followers of Molag Bal. Tradition dictates that females are offered as sacrifice to Molag Bal on the day of his summoning. Few survive the ordeal; those who do emerge as pure-blooded vampires—daughters of Coldharbor."

"This prophecy—this 'Tyranny of the Sun'—requires Serana's blood?" Jim asked.

"Now you're beginning to see why I wanted to protect Serana, and why I've kept the other Elder Scroll as far from her as possible," Valerica answered, regaining her composure. "If Harkon obtained Auriel's Bow and used her blood to taint the weapon, then the Tyranny of the Sun would be complete. In his eyes, she'd be dying for the good of all vampires."

"I won't allow that to happen," Jim answered. "I'll die before I let him use Serana like that."

"You care nothing for Serana or our plight…"

"Stop right there, Valerica," Jim interrupted. "The truth is I _do_ care about Serana. The question is: do you? Is this some power play for you?"

"She's my daughter," Valerica said defensively, obviously shaken by Jim's accusation. "You couldn't understand what she means to me…"

"You're wrong…" Jim replied, turning his face away. "I know exactly what it is to have a child—someone you would give your life to protect."

He choked, "I also know what it's like to lose a child."

"Jim…" Serana trailed.

"My wife…my son…" Jim trailed, his voice low and soft. "It is the duty of a father and husband to protect his family, but it was one I failed to do. Harkon failed, too…are we really that different?"

"Jim, stop it…" Serana said.

"Trust me or not—that's your choice," he said, looking back at Valerica. "Serana trusts me, so why can't you?"

"Serana?" Valerica asked, obviously shaken by this father's display of self-hate. "This stranger may call himself 'friend,' yet he aligns himself with those who would hunt you down and slay you like an animal. Why should I entrust you to him?"

"This 'stranger' has done more for me in the brief time I've known him than you've done in centuries!" Serana said in Jim's defense.

"How dare you? I gave up everything I cared about to protecting you from that fanatic that you call a father!"

"Yes he's a fanatic—he's changed. But he's still my father. Why can't you understand how that makes me feel?" Serana was choking up.

"Oh Serana, if you'd only open your eyes. The moment your father discovers your role in the prophecy—that he needs your blood—you'll be in terrible danger." Valerica was pacing slightly, clasping her hands together with considerable tension—she was backed into a figurative corner.

"So to protect me, you shut me away from everything I cared about? You never asked me if hiding away in that tomb was the best course of action—you just expected me to follow you blindly. Both of you were obsessed with your own paths. Your motives may have been different but in the end… I'm still just a pawn to you too," Serana choked out, on the verge of tears. Jim stepped toward her, and placed a gentle and sincere hand on her shoulder. She turned her head to look at him, and saw the sympathetic look in his eyes.

"I want us to be a family again, but I don't know if we can ever have that," she said, looking back at her mother. "Maybe we don't deserve that happiness…maybe it isn't for us…"

Jim looked down at the floor, with a tear sliding down his face. He knew why he connected so well with Serana on an emotional level—it was _exactly_ the way he felt after he lost them both. Happiness…family…was Jim truly meat for that?

"We can't let him go that far, Valerica," Jim said. "We need to stop him—for that, we need the Elder Scroll."

"I'm sorry, Serana," Valerica said. "I didn't know…I didn't see. I've allowed my hatred of your father to estrange us for too long—forgive me. If you want the Elder Scroll, it's yours."

"And you…" Valerica said to Jim. "Perhaps I _have_ misjudged you, but your intentions are still somewhat unclear to me. But for Serana's sake, I'll assist you anyway I can."

"I have the Elder Scroll with me; I've kept it securely here ever since I was imprisoned," she continued. "Fortunately, you're in a position to breach the barrier that surrounds these ruins. To do so you need to locate the tallest of the rocky spires. At their bases are the souls of those trapped here, they feed the barriers holding me. Kill the Keepers tending them and it should bring the barrier down."

"Alright," Jim said. "We'll be back here when we've finished."

"One more word of warning…" she said. "There is a dragon that calls itself Durnehviir roaming the Cairn. Be wary of him. The Ideal Masters have charged him with overseeing the Keepers, and he will undoubtedly intervene if you're perceived as a threat."

"A dragon in the Soul Cairn…" Jim said. "Thanks for the warning—I'll keep Serana safe…I swear it."

* * *

Valerica kept watching them right up until they disappeared into the distance. She could not help but smile a little—she felt a great deal of pride for her daughter, while at the same time feeling bad. She felt a great deal of guilt for what she'd done before—she knew she put a great deal of stress on Serana even before she sealed her away.

The man—Jim, Serana called him—was right, this obsession with stopping her husband made her blind to the pain she caused her daughter. It really _did_ become a power play. Jim…Valerica sighed…she felt that she could trust him. He seemed quite wise for his age, was handsome in spite of the scars, and he had compassion in his eyes that Harkon could never have.

Truly, there could be no one better for Serana as a father—or as a husband—than Jim.

She would stake her life on it…

* * *

"Jim…" Serana started as they trekked toward one of the spires. "What you said before—about you being no different from my father…I don't agree with you."

"I'm not an idiot," Jim said. "I know circumstances were different—I never craved power the way Harkon has. But the temptation was always there…"

"Your blood told me everything that happened, Jim. What happened to your wife and son wasn't your fault…"

"Which part?" Jim asked. "That they died or that I couldn't do anything to keep them safe? When you take it from my view, we both failed as family men—the difference was why we failed. Harkon let a thirst for power determine who he was—me…"

"You were a victim of circumstance," Serana finished, in opposition to what he was about to say. "They were the closest thing to your heart, and you lost them. You couldn't have foreseen what would happen to your son…and you can't be responsible for what happened to your wife after that."

"Six years ago…" Jim said. "She fell ill, blamed herself. Grief killed her—I was holding her hand as she died right in front of me. You should know how that felt for me—and how it feels to relive those moments every time you sleep."

"I guess, it's not so much that I blame myself than the fact that I don't know if _they_ died angry," Jim continued. "Wherever they are now, I wonder if they forgave me…or if they hate me…"

"You were a good father, Jim," Serana said, embracing him as he sat with his head hanging. "I may not know what they thought in their last moments, but I'm sure they understood completely. I'm sure your wife is watching you, pained that you're letting grief kill you as it did her—that she wants you to move on…"

"That's…" Jim trailed. "That's kind of you to say. I…I'm not sure I believe you completely, but…thanks."

We…should keep moving," Jim finished.


	11. Chapter 11: The Keepers and the Dragon

**Author's note: Sorry for the long wait, everyone. College has just been eating time-that, and I just plain hit writer's block for a little while. To make it up to you all, this chapter has been made longer than any of the previous ones.  
**

**Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

"FUS RO DAH!" Jim Shouted as they made their way into the first spire, fighting past the odd entities that inhabited the Soul Cairn.

One type resembled a skeleton archer, except far more durable; the same went for another type that resembled a type of Draugr, almost as durable as the Death Overlords. If Jim had chosen to be partially soul trapped, he wasn't sure if he could endure all this.

For his part, Jim didn't mind the practical use of vampirism to get around in the Soul Cairn. Bypassing the need to sacrifice his soul was only one thing—the pain from the injuries he was sustaining dulled within seconds. To actually experience being undead for himself was…

_Snap out of it, Jim! _He yelled at himself.

It was exhilarating…but he wasn't sure if that was a good thing.

The Keeper, as it turned out, was a very large suit of Dragonbone armor with some type of dark cloud for a head and glowing indigo eyes. Not a cloud in the sense of the sky—it bled shadows like blood underwater, clouding out of a bite. The size of the Keeper was comparable to a giant, but the bone battleaxe it wielded was plain to see.

As it stood from its throne in the spire's atrium and brandished its weapon, the souls surrounding it vanished.

"Keep on your toes," Jim said, drawing his crossbow. "That battleaxe could cleave a man in two in a single swing."

Jim used the crossbow long enough to see its flaws, even at this distance—he struggled to put bolts where he wanted to. Crossbow bolts didn't arc upward like arrows when fired—they begin dropping immediately. True, it packed a punch, but that doesn't count for much if it doesn't land a solid hit.

Even between his bolts and Serana's ice spikes, the Keeper's armor held together.

"KRII!" Jim Shouted, using the first word of Marked for Death—though the armor was still quite strong, the Shout did help to weaken it. The bolts and spikes pierced deeper and deeper, until the armor was breached.

The Keeper staggered, and Jim rushed to deliver the final blow.

Though the katana was made more for slashing than for stabbing, the blade nevertheless found passage through the cracked armor, sliding through effortlessly. It was as if nothing physical was encased in the armor. The darkness rushed out of the armor, as if in pain—after that, the Keeper was little beyond an inanimate shell.

As Jim stood over the collapsed Keeper, he noticed a black soul gem fall out of the where helmet and neck should meet.

"That's one," Jim said.

"Looks like the Keepers need souls in order to do anything," Serana speculated, eying the soul gem. "I guess some souls are trapped, offered to the Ideal Masters, and used to animate the Keepers."

"You mean like Dwemer automatons…" Jim said.

"I suppose that's one way to look at it…" Serana trailed.

Something clouded his concentration—a mist in his mind. Jim felt shaky—his hands trembled with need. He emptied what remained in his flask into his mouth, but the shakes wouldn't stop—if anything, he felt sick to his stomach.

"It's rising, isn't it?" Jim asked—his voice was brisk. "The hunger…"

"It's always like that the first time, Jim," Serana said. "Many first time vampires give in to keep it at bay—but after that, they never stop. Whenever the hunger sets in, they kill."

She pulled out a vial, similar in appearance to healing potions from alchemist shops.

"I've been using these so far," she said. "Saves me from having to feed from an actual person…"

"Blood…" Jim trailed. "There's blood in there?"

"Father has thralls in the castle that act like cattle," she replied. "Sometimes, their blood is stored for use away from the castle. I took a few when I left to find you—but you need it right now."

"I'm just experiencing everything today…wonderful," he said in pure sarcasm.

He took the vial Serana offered, in a rather uneasy manner. The smell of blood filled his nose even before he removed the cap, more potent than he was a werewolf—it could simply be the hunger affecting his perception, though. Without thinking, he downed what was left in the vial much like he did with his flask—like mead for a Nord, the taste was sweet.

He chided himself for having such a thought. Even so, Jim sighed as the shakes eased and his body quit trembling.

"Well…it _did_ work," he muttered. "Not sure I want to get used to it, though…"

* * *

The second Keeper was in the opposite direction of the first spire, in the Soul Cairn's equivalent of west. This Keeper in particular had a Dragonbone mace and shield rather than a battleaxe, which made it marginally less of a threat than the first one.

Like the first one, it was vulnerable to Jim's Shouts—Marked for Death made the armor brittle and comparable to rotted wood. It gave way easily to Jim's katana and Serana's ice spikes until the being bound to the armor dispersed as the last one had.

Again, there was a soul gem within the armor...

"I don't much like the notion," Jim said. "But we should probably take it with us—might be helpful later on."

The third spire was north of the arena, floating in the air with no support.

"How are we supposed to get up there?" Jim asked. "There's no set of stairs to climb."

"There might be some portal at the base used to get up top," Serana remarked. "That's my guess, anyway."

"Like the mages use?" Jim asked. "No, don't answer that. I should be expecting anything after everything I've seen—this damn place is not exactly a normal one."

Sure enough, there was a portal at the bottom—it was similar to the "focal points" at the College of Winterhold. Jim never advanced far, being more interested in the Elder Scrolls than actually learning magic—barring the fact that Shouts were a form of magic that lie outside of the standard schools of magic. Besides, Jim did have some basic skills in Restoration magic.

Those focal points literally _radiated_ magicka—and Jim could feel the same sensation here.

"Well," Jim started. "Here's hoping I don't get turned inside-out on the other side."

Serana gave a nervous chuckle just before Jim jumped into the portal—hardly reassuring.

The aura he was surrounded by was so much like the one that tried to yank his very life from his body when he entered the stairs to the Soul Cairn. Rather than actually feeling like his soul was being separated from his body, it felt like he was sinking in the swamplands of Black Marsh and then being spat out of some predator's mouth.

His vision faded and then when it cleared up, he was overlooking the ravaged land of the Soul Cairn, with Serana having flashed in surrounded by the aura of the Soul Cairn.

They came under bombardment by arrows almost immediately. The final Keeper must have had a good vantage point on them—the shoulder armor of Jim's Orcish armor gave way, and the arrow found entry under his skin.

Fortunately, the armor managed to keep the arrowhead from embedding too deeply into the muscle. Pain persisted, but Jim pushed through.

"Charge it!" Jim barked—a leader giving an order. "Don't give it another clean shot!"

This Keeper—like the last two—sported Dragonbone armor. Unlike the last two, it was using a bow made of Dragonbone. Since it didn't appear to carry any close assault weapons, it would be left vulnerable if rushed.

But that bow…Jim definitely wanted to take that bow for use—Dragonbone was extremely resilient, with string heavier on the draw than any wood or metal. With a little more work at the grindstone, it could outperform the crossbow on all fronts.

"KRII!"

The Shout hit the Keeper dead on, and Jim darted past it while delivering a powerful slash. Immediately, he followed up with a stab to the back with the katana—a stab that would have left a normal human on the ground bleeding to death. Dark mist leaked out from the ruptured armor, and the Keeper delivered a powerful elbow bash into Jim's chest.

The angle at which the blow hit acted as leverage, sending Jim flying several feet backwards—he lost his footing, ending up flat on his rump and propped against a column.

Though the Keeper had no expression that could be seen, but Jim could swear that he could read frustration into its movements. It took aim at Jim, who struggled to move—his body refused every command his mind gave it.

_Almost_ every command—he could still speak…and Shout.

"ZUN HAL VIIK!"

The bow was torn from the Keeper's grasp—it "expressed" the equivalent to surprise. The Keeper took an ice spike from Serana as it turned toward her, for the bow had landed several feet in front of her.

Gaining the use of his limbs again, Jim drew the loaded crossbow and took aim. His arm shook, but he was sure he would make the shot…. Aiming for the break in the Keeper's armor, he fired.

The bolt found passage within the armor, and the Keeper gave a pained roar. Darkness dispersed, leaving the husk of the armor.

"That was very risky, Jim," Serana said, approaching to help him up. "No, don't say it—you improvise…"

"Risk big, win big," Jim muttered.

"Yeah?" Serana asked. "And what was the prize?"

"Access to the arena, for one," he replied. "That bow, for another…"

Jim left the crossbow where he was, moving to pick up the Dragonbone bow and retrieve the quiver from the Keeper's remains. The weight of the bow was considerable, but hardly a hindrance to Jim with his strength—even if he were still mortal.

"How are we going to get down now?" Jim asked. "There was no portal down there…"

"Keep going up, I guess…" Serana trailed.

There was a portal at the top—Jim and Serana went through. They then went south toward the arena…

* * *

Valerica was waiting at the top of the stairs when her daughter and the stranger returned. The fact that the barrier was down could only mean one thing: they managed to destroy all three Keepers.

"Impressive…" she commented, echoing what she was thinking. "You managed to destroy all the Keepers."

"Yes," said the stranger…

She had to stop thinking of the man as simply "stranger". In the span of an hour and a half, he destroyed the Keepers _while_ keeping Serana safe. He hadn't gone back on his word…

"Will we be able to get the scroll now?" Jim asked, interrupting Valerica's thoughts.

_Jim…what an odd name…_ she thought.

"Yes, follow me," Valerica said; she then led the two through the doors to the arena.

* * *

They had hardly even reached the bottom of the stairs inside when Jim stopped dead in his tracks. The other two also stopped, noting the abruptness…

"Jim?" Serana asked. "What is it?"

He drew his new bow, saying, "You'd better get ready—we've got company."

A dragon's roar filled the skies, giving credence to Jim's warning.

The dragon landed on one of the gates to the arena, and used an unusual Shout—in response, the various denizens of the Soul Cairn rose from the ground to attack.

_So then…this must be Durnehviir_, Jim thought.

"Wonderful…" he quipped. "Hit 'em hard!"

Valerica was stalwart in her resolve, but Serana was tense with a hint of fear. Jim told her about the dragons returning and her mother warned them about this one, but she never expected to see one. It was as fearsome as in childhood stories…

No—it was even more fearsome than that.

"Serana!" Valerica called, having hit a Wrathman with a spell—a Wrathman that nearly took a swipe at her.

She snapped out her paralysis of fear and finished off the staggered Wrathman.

"Don't drop your guard…" Valerica called, and then had a shocked expression on her face.

"Oh…gods…"

Serana then saw why…

Jim and Durnehviir were trading blows at a distance—Jim's arrows found their mark at a distance, while Durnehviir flew by with a breath of pure winter. It was an even match—like a battle between two evenly matched warriors.

That is, until the dragon eventually blindsided Jim, hitting him hard in the back with its wing during a dive.

Serana couldn't contain her worry!

"JIM!"

Jim lay flat on the floor, stunned but very much alive—well, as alive as a vampire could be. Then Durnehviir turned its attention to Serana…

She threw herself to the ground, narrowly avoiding a dive attack. Several emotions ran through her mind—fear, concern, protectiveness…and all of a sudden, emotion that wasn't hers: anguish and anger.

Then, determination set in…Jim's determination.

"JOOR ZAH FRUL!"

These words echoed through the air, and then Serana saw Jim on his feet. Durnehviir had stopped short of grabbing her in its talons—surrounded by a blue aura, the dragon flew away from her and landed on the ground not far from Jim.

"You _won't_ touch her!" he yelled.

In reply, Durnehviir dashed forward, attempting to rend Jim apart with those imposing fangs. Jim rolled to the side, drawing his katana.

Then a splendor happened right before Serana's eyes. Jim breathed fire while the dragon breathed a blizzard—a clash between two extremes with neither overpowering the other, and a blinding flash where they met. A battle not between a man and a dragon, but between two dragons…

The next thing Serana recalled seeing was Jim on Durnehviir's head, katana buried deep within it. With a grunt, Jim pulled it out and jumped off…

Durnehviir roared in pain and collapsed, the body dissipating in a violet fire…

"Good night, you bastard…" Jim muttered.

Like Alduin, Jim didn't absorb Durnehviir's soul—he didn't care…

He walked over to Serana, and kneeled beside her…

"Serana…" he said briskly, with barely controlled worry. "Are you alright? Did he hurt you?"

"Jim…that's what I was going to ask!" she exclaimed. "I thought he had you for sure!"

"Shh…I shook off a wing to the back and feel as good as new," he said. "Way better than I would have felt if I let you get hurt—or killed—because I was flat on my face…"

Jim could very faintly hear Valerica mutter under her breath, "That was…the Thu'um…"

Jim imagined that Valerica was quite familiar with the Greybeards, having predated the Empire. He also figured that being stuck in this plane with a dragon guarding it meant that she was at least acquainted with the concept of Shouts.

He helped Serana to her feet.

"Forgive my astonishment," she said, now talking normally. "But I never thought I'd witness the death of that dragon—volumes written on Durnehviir allege that he can't be slain by normal means. It appears they were mistaken…unless…"

"Unless?" Jim prompted.

"A dragon's soul is as resilient as its owner's scaly hide," Valerica continued. "It's possible that your killing blow merely displaced his physical form while he reconstitutes himself."

"How long until then?"

"Minutes? Hours? Years?" Valerica said. "I can't even begin to guess, but I don't think it's wise to wait around and find out."

"Agreed…" Jim trailed. "So, we take the scroll and leave as quickly as possible."

Valerica nodded, and led them to another alcove in the arena, where the Elder Scroll was stored in a case. Jim picked it up at Valerica's approval.

"You should be on your way now that you have the Elder Scroll," she said.

"You're not coming with?" Jim asked.

"I have to stay," Valerica replied. "As I said before, I'm a Daughter of Coldharbour—if I return to Tamriel, then that will increase Harkon's likelihood of bringing the Tyranny of the Sun to fruition."

"The prophesy…" Jim trailed. "Alright, but we'll come back for you when we can—when it's over."

"I…appreciate your concern for me," Valerica started, "But Serana is all that I care about—you must keep her safe at all cost. Remember that Harkon is not to be trusted—no matter what he promises, he'll deceive you in order to get what he wants."

"Valerica, I know," Jim replied. "I've fought against people like him before—power trumps everything else…people I can't stand."

"Promise me you'll keep my daughter safe," Valerica said. "She's the only thing of value I have left…"

"On my life…" Jim promised. "Only in death will that promise break…"

"Look me in the eyes," Valerica commanded—Jim couldn't help but obey.

"Hunter—," she stopped herself. "Jim, I believe you…you're just that kind of man."

She just used his name…he offered his hand, which she shook—a sign of trust between the two of them.

"Good luck," she said at last, to which he replied, "Stay safe…"

With that they walked from the alcove, Jim carrying the scroll in his arms.

"How do you feel after talking to her?" he asked Serana.

"Relieved, I guess," Serana replied. "So much of that built up…I was glad to get it off my chest."

"Why did you ever agree to her plan?" Jim asked.

"Look, I loved my father but after he found that prophecy… that became his life. Everything else—even me and my mother… We just became clutter. I was close with my mother but she kept feeding me her opinions of him, and eventually I came to believe them," she sighed sadly.

"It all started when you became vampires," Jim said, and she nodded.

"It took me this long to realize that my mother was just as bad as my father—he was obsessed with power, and she was obsessed with seeing him fail," Serana added.

"It ate away at everything you held dear," Jim replied. "Listen—I don't know if you agree, but after everything that's happened in this place, I think your mother is entirely redeemable…"

"Jim…" she trailed off. "You're right—once this is all over, maybe things can be right between the two of us again."

* * *

Jim couldn't believe it…

"Back for more?" he asked, placing a hand on the hilt of his katana.

Right in front of them was Durnehviir, very much alive. Now that it was a stare down, Jim got a better look at him—Durnehviir was physically distinctive from any other dragon he had encountered.

"Stay your weapons," he spoke. "I would speak with you, Qahnaarin…"

"I thought you were dead," Jim remarked.

"Not dead—cursed," Durnehviir replied. "Doomed to exist in this form for eternity—trapped between _laas_ and _dinok_, between life and death."

"That you exist here in the Soul Cairn as a material being tells me one thing," Jim said. "You turned to necromancy."

"So," Jim added, "Why are we speaking?"

"I believe in civility among seasoned warriors," Durnehviir answered. "I find your ear worthy to hear my words. My claws have rended the flesh of innumerable foes, but I have never once been felled on the field of battle—I therefore honor-name you _Qahnaarin_—or 'Vanquisher' in your tongue."

"You were equally worthy," Jim replied. Cheap shot aside, the fight was what he'd expect from a dragon.

"Your words do me honor," Durnehviir said. "My desire to speak to you was born from the result of our battle, Qahnaarin—I merely wish to respectfully ask a favor of you…"

Jim allowed him to talk. As it turned out, this "favor" was to call his name in Tamriel so that he would be allowed a brief moment of freedom from the Soul Cairn. Jim promised to consider it…

One thing was on his mind, though…

"Why do you place the title 'Qahnaarin' with me?" Jim asked.

"In my language, the Qahnaarin is the Vanquisher, the one who has bested a fellow dovah in battle…"

"Fellow dovah?" Jim asked. "I am not a dragon, though…"

"Even in the Soul Cairn, the defeat of the World-Eater has reached my ears…Dovahkiin," Durnehviir answered. "You may not be one of us in body, but your victory over Alduin earns you every right to bear this title."

"I see…" Jim trailed. "Even in this wasteland…"

"Farewell…" he said before he and Serana went south to the portal. She hadn't taken her eyes off of him the entire time.

* * *

"We better not leave this open, in case any of Harkon's minions decide to investigate," Jim said, removing the ingredients from the basin. Stone moved, and the stairs into the Soul Cairn became the small depression in the ground it had been.

"Serana?" Jim asked. "You've been pretty quiet on our way back here. Is there a problem?"

"You defeated the World-Eater," she remarked, eyes closed in an expression that could be best described as pondering. "You cheated death itself."

"You sound surprised, but why? Didn't my blood tell you all this?"

"I guess…" Serana trailed. "I guess I just wanted to hear it for myself."

"Serana…if you want to talk, we can talk," Jim said. "We need to leave first, though."

He opened the door they first came through, then quickly slammed it shut—did he need to explain? He saw a gargoyle, several Death Hounds and two vampires heading their way.

"Not this way!" Jim exclaimed, toppling anything with some weight in front of the door to buy some time. "Let's try the other door!"

That door opened, but sunlight bled through the normally overcast skies—Jim's armor suddenly felt several times heavier, and he struggled to move with the same speed he normally could.

"Rubble…" Jim murmured after seeing the only other way blocked. "No way out…except down."

"Jim, are you—," Serana snapped, being cut off by stone cracking underneath their feet.

"Speak of the devil…" Jim trailed, grabbing Serana in an embrace and fell along with her as the walkway gave way under them…


	12. Chapter 12: Faithful Hound

**Author's note: I feel I may have gotten a bit lazy on this particular entry, but I'm putting up anyway. Finals week is coming up, so after that I should be able to average a few more chapters.**

* * *

Serana felt her hand on something hard covered in what felt like mud when her senses began coming to—driftwood, she figured. The sound of waves crashing and the feel of sand and soil under her meant that they were by the shoreline.

She sat up and checked herself for injuries as her vision cleared, not noticing Jim anywhere. That fall…it was amazing that they survived—it was even more amazing that she didn't have a single scratch on her. Then Serana saw the blood caking up on her hand…

Blood and shards of armor littered the ground in front of her, leaking into the sea. Her eyes followed the blood, and she saw Jim. The "driftwood" she felt was actually bone, sticking out from Jim's broken arm…

She didn't have a scratch…because _Jim_ took all the injury for _her_…

The link told her the pain he felt—pain that she was ultimately responsible for.

"Jim?" she asked, frantic. Her hand gave a gentle nudge, careful to avoid the broken bones and deep gashes.

"Jim? Can you hear me?" she asked, and repeated louder when he didn't answer.

"Yeah…" he croaked out. "Just barely…my arm's messed up, and I think I broke a leg. It hurts to talk…"

"Save your strength, Jim," Serana said. "The sun is not going to help with recovery. Stay still—I'm going to try and find something to splint that arm and leg…"

They were quite close to the inlet, so there were planks that washed up a long while before she first came out of her millennium-long slumber. Though many were rotted from the water, they would have to do over nothing at all. If nothing else, it made separating them into smaller pieces much easier.

"Jim, hang in there," Serana said. "Bite down on this—it'll help with the pain."

She set the small bit of oak in his mouth, and he braced himself…

Trying her best to be gentle, she worked the broken arm into place, still Jim grunted during the process. Each one was like a stab to Serana's heart—the knowledge set in that she _had_ to put Jim through great pain in order to help him.

She held herself responsible for what happened to Jim—just like he blamed himself for what happened in the past…

* * *

*~Six Years Earlier, Cyrodiil~*

Jim's duty as guard captain in Bruma often meant he couldn't travel with his family—just as well, since Liddy and Jon were visiting the in-laws. Still, it hurt not being with his wife and son as often as he wanted.

When the courier arrived with the news, the Count had allowed him a leave of absence.

Their son, Jon, was dead…drowned in Niben Bay. The in-laws resided in Leyawiin, and they were on the road north when one of the carriages slipped off a bridge and fell into the river and was carried into the Bay.

Though Liddy survived, Jon could not be found for a full day—his body washed up by Bravil…

Jim rode as fast as he could when he was given leave—he should have been there to start with. All his time as a guard captain, he never had to draw his sword—he was _that_ reputable—he took it upon himself to protect the people of Bruma.

And yet, he failed to keep his son safe…

Liddy blamed herself, too. She caught ill later that year, in the bleak winter common to Bruma. She ate less and less after Jon's death, and spent many restless nights along with Jim.

He remembered holding her hand as it went limp and she passed away from this world—a victim of her grief. With her death, Jim threatened to follow suit—the will to live being dangerously close to burning out. The fire that kept him going despite his past was a mere ember, threatening to fade…

He turned to his work—and to mead—in some vain hope to forget…. Did they hold him in contempt for his failure?

That question has haunted every minute of his life since then…

* * *

~*Present Time*~

Serana dragged Jim into a nook off the shoreline as gently as she could, trying to avoid disturbing the recently-splinted bones. She took the time to wash the blood trail away—with any luck, anybody who came to investigate would be convinced that the currents from the sea carried any intruders away.

She wasn't going to hold her breath, though…

"Jim…" Serana said when she came back to him, moving a boulder to try and conceal them from anyone who would investigate the area—and to shelter them from a blizzard that was going to come in.

"Hmm?" he murmured, still in great pain.

"Here," she started, handing him a vial, "You'll need some blood to heal up—don't even think of it as blood, actually."

The blood would help mend the breaks somewhat—Serana's hope was that it would strengthen the bones to the point where she could help Jim walk to the boat without his leg giving way at nightfall.

"Gee, thanks…" he trailed. "I won't be able to think of it as…anything else, now."

She was about to apologize when he downed what was in the vial just before losing consciousness. She kept next to him, the bond of blood being the only way she knew he hadn't truly passed on.

It was then, waiting for nightfall, that Serana realized something that she couldn't think of during her earlier panic—the way his skin felt under her touch. It was as cold as the air around them both, and as cold as her—she didn't like that. He was so warm before she turned him—as brief as that touch was, Serana found herself missing that touch already.

He was bare-chested, the armor having broken and fallen off during and after the fall. The only two things left of the armor were the greaves and the boots—though the plating that was on them was lost.

Serana could see just how many scars Jim carried—many had faded into his skin, but several were not even months old. A long set of claw marks—too big for a bear—adorned his back. A dragon, she figured.

Several small scars were hidden under the coarse hair of his beard…

Suddenly, the boulder shifted—Serana drew her dagger, ready to meet an attacker. It wasn't a vampire; it was a mortal woman—red hair, with blue face paint resembling claw marks. More importantly—she smelled of beastblood…

* * *

Jim felt his head resting on fur—he felt no clothing on him, but he didn't at all feel cold.

Then he opened his eyes, seeing himself concealed within tall grass—like the farmlands north of Anvil. He smelled deer frolicking nearby, and he stood up…and then saw his hands. They were claws…and he was covered in fur…

_Impossible! Impossible—I purged myself of the beastblood!_

"You are wrong about that, champion," a voice said.

Reflexively, Jim swerved his muzzle around, and saw the telltale figure wearing an animal's skull—none other than Hircine himself.

"You are here, in my Hunting Grounds, because I have words for you to hear," Hircine said. "You are not dead yet—I have need of you…"

_How did this happen? I purged the blood of the wolf from myself, as I had for Kodlak!_

"Surely you remember Sinding?" Hircine asked. "Hunting the other hunters along his side? It has left its mark upon you—that you have kept my ring was not your will. You've carried it for so long, the blood is a permanent part of what you are—I have willed it... What wasn't my will was that you would reject it for that of Molag Bal!"

_So, you know what I did…and you're interested in this Tyranny of the Sun. I'm your little pawn in some gambit with Molag Bal, is that it?_

"Not a pawn—you are to be my champion, as Harkon is to be Molag Bal's. Surely, you know of my rivalry with the Prince of Corruption? For Millennia since we've each bestowed our own gifts upon Nirn, we made a wager…"

_Let me guess: Molag Bal wishes to prove that his "gift" is greater than that of yours…and you wish to prove the opposite. And you wish to stop the prophecy to do so…_

"You will stop the prophecy from coming to pass—you seek to defend mortals from vampires by doing so…" Hircine stated. "It makes no difference; your soul is already mine with or without my gift—you continue your petty fight for freedom, and I will claim you for my Hunting Grounds when your days end…my Faithful Hound by my side…"

"So," he started, raising his trademark spear, "Awaken once more, my hound…awaken and crave the hunt!"

* * *

The woman had helped Serana carry the unconscious Jim to the boat, and row it to Solitude's docks. Evidently, she knew Jim personally—just like she knew he had a home in Solitude.

For the next few days, Serana worked around the clock to nurse Jim to health—all while getting acquainted with the woman. He name was Aela, and she was one of the Companions—and Jim was the current Harbinger.

You learned something new every day…Serana never would have guessed that Jim was Harbinger—it was something that his blood didn't tell her. Jim had struck her as a leader, not an advisor as the Harbinger had historically been.

The third day, she could feel Jim slip away…she sat next to him on his bed, holding his hand tightly. It was all Serana could do while his grip went limp. Her heart—dead as it was—jumped as she feared the worst: that Jim had truly passed away. And then the sharp breath came…

His eyes opened—they didn't have the fire red glow of a vampire's eyes, but the perfectly human brown they had in life. Serana could swear that she could see flecks of gold in them, and his skin gradually began to warm up—beyond what it was before she had turned him.

He grunted and strained as he worked himself up to a sitting position, with Serana refusing to let go of his hand—like someone desperately trying to keep someone from falling from a cliff. She laced her fingers through his…

"Serana?" he asked, as though he couldn't believe his eyes.

She acted on impulse, hugging him tightly with her free arm. He grunted a bit, still aching despite his broken arm having mostly healed.

"Jim," she said, still not letting it go. "Thank the Divines…I thought I lost you."

Her voice was strained and cracking. Serana—whom Jim viewed as the epitome of calm and playful—was so frightened for him to have poured her emotions out in one action. All he did was hug right back, burying his nose into her cool neck.

"Serana…" he trailed.

Serana's hair seemed so much longer with the braids undone. Ebony strands of silk brushed against Jim's face, and against his own hair. His facial hair pricked Serana's skin, but she didn't react—she merely held him as only a lover could…

A lover…there was an idea Jim needed to get used to…

Then Serana loosened her grip on him, allowing him to look around.

Then, he voiced his question…

"Wait…how did we get back to Proudspire Manor?"

"Because your friend happened to have some help," said Aela's unmistakable voice from the bedroom door. "Lucky I chose that day to investigate that island…"

"Aela…" Jim trailed. "Looks like that's two I owe you in one month."

"Keep this up, and you might be the shortest-lived Harbinger the Companions have had," she said, but she amended her words when she saw the look on Serana's face. "It would be a damn shame, too—you've more than earned the title."

Serana could see it—Aela was hiding emotion behind a wall.

"Hircine paid me a visit…" Jim said out of the blue.

Silence befell all three of them after his explanation. After that, a heated argument between Jim and Aela ensued…and all Serana could do was watch.

* * *

It was an "honor" according to Aela—to be Hircine's mortal champion. Aela reveled in the blood of the wolf while Jim ultimately left it behind. A month beforehand, she had learned why.

They were the only two people who were awake one morning at Jorrvaskr—Jim was damn near in a drunken stupor. Aela rarely ever saw Jim in the mead hall with the others…she suspected he was often away on "Dragonborn business". He occasionally stopped by for jobs or supplies, but not for conversation.

He would come by past midnight and only stay for a few hours at a time.

When she asked what was on his mind that day, she got quite an earful: Jim was fixated on his past—father, widower, outlaw…

Kodlak Whitemane was a father-figure to her…it was this type of connection she felt with Jim—ironic, considering that Aela was Jim's "mother" with regards to lycanthropy. She had been his forebear, the one who gave him that gift. That aside, Jim was only eight years her senior—hardly old enough to be her father.

"We are who we choose to be," she remembered Jim saying. She remembered, because he echoed those words in this argument. He added to that: "I _didn't_ choose this, Aela…"

She relented, "I'm sorry, Jim…"

She left the room because she had no room to argue. Jim was right: he wasn't given a choice on the matter of beastblood this time, as he had before—it was forced upon him.

"She's quite stubborn," she heard on the edge of earshot. "But she's a good person—beastblood or not…"


	13. Chapter 13: Recovery

**Author's Note: This will be a short filler while I finish up finals week. Enjoy!**

* * *

"I've never been a good cook, Jim…" Serana trailed.

"Neither have I," he replied. He stared down at the meal Serana had prepared—an attempt at apple cabbage stew. It was underdone, hardly even warm—and the tastes didn't really blend well. Still, it was better than anything Jim could put together. Jim tended to leave it simmering _too_ long every time he tried to make it—that aside, having to memorize the seasonings used…damn it.

Even so, Jim was famished—he ate fast, like a desperate prisoner fearing that someone would come along and swipe his food. He didn't take the time to taste, instead forcing his opinions of it to the back of his mind.

_It's just food—shut out the taste and just focus on getting better…_

He kept repeating that to himself in his mind. Jim practically inhaled his food, like gasping for air.

There were four people in the manor: Aela, Jordis, Serana, and Jim himself. And not a single one of them could cook—to be fair, Serana made the meal _look_ rather convincing. Besides, the idea of a vampire cooking for a mortal was somewhat amusing…

Which brought up something else Jim was thinking about during his recover—Serana's behavior. She had repeatedly come off as strong-willed and kind-hearted, while still being what many Nords would regard as "lady-like"—barring the necromancy, of course. She seemed very meek as she nursed him back to health the remainder of the week—Jim never would have thought of Serana as meek before.

His blood told her his fears and feelings, and Jim could swear it worked both ways: he felt her concern for him, and much more…

* * *

Every time she set foot in the same room as Jim this week, she felt odd. She wanted to believe it was a simple side effect of their bond—which had endured beyond his return to the living.

His skin was warm to touch; every word he said was a caress…those words did well to sooth the stab to her soul that his pain had caused.

_Damn it! This shouldn't be happening!_ It wasn't that Serana didn't care for Jim's well-being—quite the opposite, in fact. It was because she should've been more in control of her emotions than she was. In his presence, every muscle threatened to go lax and every fiber of her being wanted to stay by his side in that luxurious room of his; to comfort him.

Her emotions and thoughts were getting more frantic each passing day, and she knew precisely why…

She was in love with Jim Ridley…

* * *

On Sundas, Serana had worked up the composure to come in without shaking.

"Serana…" Jim trailed. "Falling from that high…I want to know: what was going through your mind?"

She hesitated, breaking eye contact, searching for an answer. She was hardly even sure herself, Jim figured. He doubted anything but raw emotion sliced through her like a knife, overwhelming all coherent though. Looking death right in the eye was a paralyzing experience to those who had not faced it before.

"I can hardly put into words how scared I felt," Serana said. "Panic...I felt so much. I couldn't feel your thoughts as we fell. What about you?"

"Me?" Jim asked. "Was I fearful, you mean?"

"Yes…"

"I wasn't afraid to die…" he choked out. "It was you I was afraid for…it was for you I took every blow as we hit those rocks. All I could think about was the promise I made to defend you—it's given me a reason to look past the money."

Jim felt Serana's hand sit gently on his own, ice and fire meeting as skin touched skin. She was shaking out of fear rather than any need, and Jim really wasn't sure why.

"That's not all, is it?" she asked. "It was more than a promise…why?"

"Because…" Jim hesitated. "Because I never got the chance to keep my own family safe—because I should have been there that day."

"Jim, I want to hear it from you," Serana started. "What was your wife like?"

"Beautiful, but that's not what drew me," he replied. "She was compassionate, soft-hearted, but she had this stubborn streak—like you, now that I think of it. She wasn't afraid of expressing herself, and was as alive in spirit as she was in body."

"But that changed when your son died…" Serana said.

He didn't need to affirm that—Jim simply went on, "It was like she lost the drive to live after we lost Jon. It killed her, you know…the thought of what could have—should have—been. A big part of me died when I lost them both—I almost died along with Lidya."

"You think that protecting me…"

"Will be the start of my redemption," he finished.

Then something in Serana's facial expression changed. She wanted to say something, but looked like she dreaded how Jim would react. She was breathing in, as if she was about to say something, then she breathed out sharply as she seemed to change her mind...

"Serana?" Jim asked. "What's bothering you?"

"Do you…" Serana started, knowing how this would come off. "Do you still have her body?"

As she expected, he glared at her with anger, "What are you suggesting? Necromancy? Forget it, Serana…if I were so selfish as to keep her from resting in Aetherius just because I miss her so much…"

"No," Serana replied defensively. "That's not what I'm suggesting at all…. It's just that I know you wonder whether she or Jon blames you…you want to have that answer."

Jim must have looked blank, because she went on.

"A person is a unity of body and soul," she stated. "Reanimating the dead is one thing—channeling the spirits of the departed to this plane is another thing. I want to offer you the chance to talk to her one last time."

"Serana…why are you offering this to me?" Jim asked.

"I see what you're doing to yourself, Jim," Serana replied. "You always seem in a hurry to place your life at risk…like you are actually _seeking_ death—like it's the only way you'll get your answers. You just told me that protecting me will be the first step to redemption—but you didn't always feel like that…"

"No, I didn't," Jim confirmed. "I felt that I should have died along with them for years…"

"It hurts me to hear that from you," she said. "It hurts me to see you like this—I'm sure if she's watching you, she feels the same way."

"Serana—," Jim was cut off as she embraced him hard, ear against his chest so that she could hear his heart—not a comment of discomfort with regards to the flax tunic he wore. Night was falling as the sun disappeared behind Castle Dour, the shadow cast right outside the bedroom growing deeper and deeper.

"I'll…consider it, Serana," Jim said.

There was nothing sexual or even suggestive about that night—she simply fell asleep in his arms. He knew she felt at peace in his presence—and he felt at peace for once in what felt like forever…

To talk to his wife one last time…yes…

He needed to make peace with her and his past. He would give his answer to Serana when they woke up tomorrow morning—they would have to set out tomorrow to Winterhold to get the other Elder Scroll, too. Jim simply couldn't allow what remained of his injuries to get in the way of what needed to be done.

For the moment, he didn't care…he fell asleep holding Serana close—the aches in his joints and his healing cuts soothed in her presence, as if they were never there to start with. Being with her felt like…destiny.

He never believed in destiny—it destroyed his concept of "we are who we choose to be", the very thing his pa wrote in his last letter. Even so, if there was indeed such a thing, it was right there before Jim—a wide field of opportunity spread before them both…

_Maybe we don't deserve that kind of happiness_, Serana had told her mother. _Maybe it isn't for us…_

Lying here, asleep next to Serana, Jim couldn't help but think otherwise…

* * *

**Post note: I am thinking of doing a second fanfic for the opposite side regarding this DLC once I finish this one, as well as a sequel set in the recent Dragonborn DLC. Leave your feed back in the reviews or by PM.  
**


	14. Chapter 14: Blind

They awoke the next morning—or more properly, Jim awoke and gently eased away from Serana as he did not wish to disturb her rest. Somehow, Jim knew she wouldn't care if he woke her—if anything, he felt it would be better to get ready before waking her up. Jim knew that Serana didn't think he was weak, but her dedication to helping Jim recover had bordered on overbearing.

Still, it felt nice to be cared about…

Evidently, Jordis was still asleep and Aela hadn't come back from the Winking Skeever—there was no guest room in Proudspire Manor. Jim made his way downstairs to the armor mannequins in the basement, doing his best to be silent. There, he decided on his armor…

Jim may not have been Eorlund Gray-Mane, but he was still very good at making armor. The set of Ebony Armor on the mannequin was made and improved upon by Jim himself—the armor was hard enough to stop a single war hammer strike with little beyond a dent. Even an archer would struggle to pierce it with anything short of a Daedric bow. Repeated strikes were a different story, of course. And a dragon's fangs could still punch right through it—Jim had firsthand experience.

Then there was the decal on the right shoulder—a dragon, like the engravings found in the many Nordic Tombs that Jim had ventured through. Idiots commented that he had a big ego because he was Dragonborn—in truth, the decal and the armor belonged to Jim back in his outlaw days with Titus.

It saw a lot of action and suffered a lot of wear over the years and was nearly destroyed on many occasions, but Jim always managed to repair it. The time he put into improving the armor paid off; he fought Alduin wearing this armor.

Maybe it would see him through all this, as well…

Getting the armor on was finicky—Jim had been off of his feet for most of the week and had to readjust to the weight of the armor. It was evident in the fact that he nearly lost his balance—had he actually done so and fallen on the ground, it would make him look like the greenhorn soldier he was at eighteen years old.

He flexed his arms and shifted them around, aches coming back to his muscles as they strained under the weight. Gradually, it began to dull as he adjusted the straps and began taking a quick walk up the stairs and around the foyer. In time, it felt like he was wearing simply clothes and not armor—the result of practiced use.

Satisfied that he was adjusting, he unfastened the gauntlets from the rest of the armor as he walked up the stairs to the master bedroom. Serana was still asleep—he felt a flush of heat through his face as he saw her. She lay on the bed, looking more vulnerable than ever—the curve of her face would be tempting to any man. Jim could not help but run the back of his fingers along her cheek, the tiny hairs on them so light as to hardly register.

He closed his eyes as he sat there next to her, locked in thought. Beauty incarnate, tender-hearted…was there anything about her that wasn't perfect?

"Plenty," he heard her say. He was drawn from his thoughts, knowing that Serana had read them. Opening his eyes again, he saw her awake.

"Gotten armored up, have we?" she asked rhetorically. "I knew that's what you were doing…"

Jim chuckled a little—he hadn't surprised anyone…at least, not Serana.

"I was afraid you were going to keep me bedridden," Jim said. "Keeping an eye on me every hour of the day for the last week—even my housecarls are not _that_ protective."

She moved, sitting up on the bed and taking his hand into hers. She quipped, "Then again, none of them were in love with you…"

"Yeah…" Jim said. "Jordis _was_ flirtatious for a few weeks, though…"

"So…we're heading back to the Mage's College?" she asked.

"Yeah, Urag still has the other scroll for safekeeping," Jim replied. "If we pull off this plan to find Auriel's Bow, Urag will have himself a small collection of Elder Scrolls to drool over."

Serana chuckled, "Better not keep him—or the Dawnguard—waiting…"

* * *

Aela had insisted that she come along as far as Fort Dawnguard, despite Jim's assurances. He had little choice but to let her come along—the three of them grabbed a carriage at midday to Winterhold, arriving at nightfall. Jim did at least manage to convince her to stay at the inn until they got back—fewer people to rile up the mages.

Faralda stood at the bridge to the College, vigilant as always for both applicants and threats. Jim remembered two months back, standing before her wearing the exact same armor and looking nothing like a mage. He remembered her amazement when he demonstrated his Thu'um—proving that he was Dragonborn.

He also remembered that she was flirtatious, until he stated his discomfort. Also, she wasn't a fan of the Dominion and didn't much care about the war that tore Skyrim in two. Jim wanted to think that—due to Jarl Korir's distrust of mages as well as most Stormcloaks' hatred of elves—he had done the College a huge favor by siding with the Empire.

"Always nice to see you," Faralda said. "It was getting boring around here."

"Faralda," Jim greeted. "It's been about a month—glad to see the College is still standing…"

She saw Serana and said, "Hmmm…someone mentioned you were here with a companion when you were in the Arcanaeum. They didn't tell me she was such a looker…"

Jim opened his mouth and closed it, afraid of saying anything that might be offensive—regardless of whether it was Faralda or Serana. He had the nightmare thought of complimenting Faralda's looks in front of Serana—appeasing High Elves in general was extremely annoying. Granted, Faralda didn't have as inflated a self-image as Nirya or—perish the thought—Ancano.

"_She's got nothing on you,"_ he imagined saying, and imagining Serana chewing him out for such a reply.

It was pure luck that Serana replied instead and saved him embarrassment, "Thank you for the compliment…"

"We're here to see Urag again," Jim said.

"I won't stop you," Faralda said. "Go right ahead…"

As they crossed the bridge, Serana asked, "Were you two a…?"

"No," Jim answered, anticipating the rest of the question. "She was flirtatious, though…"

"Jordis and Faralda flirted with you…" Serana trailed. "How many other women flirted with you?"

"Anybody who can tie the title 'Dragonborn' to me, actually," Jim answered. "I swear, it's becoming a daily event…"

"You're not tough on the eyes, either," she quipped. "The scars don't hurt the looks…"

They walked on, those words sitting in Jim's mind—Serana's compliments were not outlandish by Jim's standards at all. They were just awkwardly delivered, as though she wasn't sure how much had changed in terms of custom as she slept in that crypt. Was it customary or acceptable for a woman to say things like that? That was probably what went through her mind…

* * *

"No," Urag said.

"We _need_ that Scroll, Urag," Jim said. "I'm perfectly willing to pay double what I sold it to you for…"

"These Scrolls are not something you can simply deposit and take out from a vault," Urag answered. "And they are nothing to be used lightly—you know this. You risked the consequences of reading an Elder Scroll two months ago, before you faced off with Alduin."

"This is very important," Jim said.

"So was defeating Alduin," Urag said. "Convince me…"

Jim sighed in weary resignation—he had hoped to be able to buy or borrow the Scroll with no questions asked. The value of the Scroll was more than simply monetary; they naturally held great magical power beyond what any mortal could hope to accomplish. They defied the limits that exist in this world, giving great historical knowledge and foresight of future events.

Indeed, the Elder Scroll in Urag's possession provided Jim with the Shout he needed to defeat Alduin—by sending him to point in time where the World-Eater was "sealed" away by the Scroll in question. In truth, Alduin was thrust forward into this time period.

It is this power that people feared, and rightly so. The Greybeards considered the existence of the Elder Scrolls to be a "blasphemy".

In any case, the Scrolls were extremely dangerous in the wrong hands. Jim didn't have to be a mage to know that…

"I was hoping to keep you from being too involved," Jim said. "But, maybe it's time to tell you what's really going on…"

When Jim finished explaining all the recent events—while leaving out Serana's involvement with the prophecy—Urag sat there in stunned silence. His mouth wasn't gaping wide, but he was still lock in thought.

"So," Jim concluded. "That's why we need the Scrolls…"

"Auriel's Bow…" Urag trailed. "In case you didn't know, Auriel was one of the chief deities of the ancient Falmer from the time when men first set foot in Tamriel from Atmora. Among the Divines, Auriel is the ancient Falmer's equivalent to Akatosh—who bestowed the Dragon blood to certain individuals, such as yourself. However, Akatosh is the deity of time, while Auriel's influence on our world is believed to be present in the sun itself."

"To use Auriel's own weapon to shroud out the sun…" Urag trailed.

"That's why the Scrolls are needed," Jim said. "We need to find the bow before Harkon does to put a stop to the prophecy…"

"If it will help you stop this 'Tyranny of the Sun', then the Elder Scroll is your," Urag said, after a long pause of deep thought. "After that, I expect all three Scrolls to be brought here—we know a place we can seal them away…"

"Fair enough," Jim said. "I don't plan on holding them longer than I need to…"

* * *

With the two Scrolls in hand, Jim and Serana went to pick up Aela from the Frozen Hearth and walk to Eastmarch to take a carriage to Riften. It was nightfall when they arrived outside of Windhelm, so Jim reluctantly decided to stay the night.

Jim avoided Windhelm like a plague unless he needed to go there—the way outsiders were treated there was sickening. Brunwulf Free-Winter may have been the new Jarl, but little had changed—the haughty Nords of this city resisted the changes with every fiber of their beings. Rolff Stone-Fist was one such example; whenever Rolff got it into his head to walk around the Gray Quarter to bully the dark elves Jim took it upon himself to beat him to the ground.

He did so again the next early morning before daybreak, finding Rolff and Angrenor Once-Honored beating up on Suvaris Atheron in some overlooked alley near the docks. Jim knocked Angrenor out cold with a single punch, and got into a full on brawl with Rolff. He hadn't landed a single punch before Jim got him knocked on his knees.

"You can hurl your slurs all you want," Jim said. "But the minute you touch anyone, there will be hell to pay."

Rolff didn't answer; he didn't need to, and Jim knew he wouldn't heed his warning. He shook Angrenor awake, and they ran away embarrassed rather than afraid.

Every instinct of Jim's wanted him to put those two down like the animals they treated others—Jim controlled his instincts instead of them controlling him. Hands shaking with barely-controlled anger, he offered a hand and helped Suvaris to her feet.

The formalities between them had become routine: Suvaris often expressed gratitude and offered a way to repay Jim, while he refused any reward. It was simply what friends did…

* * *

"You're blind…" Jim said.

When they arrived that night, Dexion was in the dining hall with the others. Jim and Serana hoped that Dexion could read the Scrolls, but complications apparently arose from the previous reading. Even Aela was fascinated by the conversation…

Dexion nodded in confirmation, and Jim slumped in a lone chair nearby.

"So then we're finished," Jim said. "Time is on their side, not ours—they might find the bow even without the Elder Scrolls, however unlikely it may be…"

"Not all hope is lost," Dexion replied. "There's still a chance to read the Scroll, but it will have to be done by you…"

"Me?" Jim questioned.

"Yes…you see, there is an old ritual," Dexion said. "Dotted across Tamriel's landscape are Ancestor Glades—there is one such place in Falkreath Hold. The ritual involves removing the bark from the Canticle trees in the glade with what is called a 'draw knife,' possibly also in the glade. Once that is done, the Ancestor Moths should favor you and allow you to read the Scrolls without consequence…"

"Any thoughts on the Scrolls? Do they have to be read in any specific order?" Jim asked.

"I believe you must start with the one pertaining to Blood," Dexion answered. "From there, it should be quite clear what to do…"

They had no other options…


	15. Chapter 15: Face from the Past

**Author's note: I would like to extend my thanks to all of you who have been patient between updates. Semester is unfortunately about to start for me along with general writer's block, so chapters will be even more spaced out. Thank out for your understanding. **

* * *

Aela had parted company with Jim and Serana. The two took a carriage from Riften and stopped at Pinewatch in Falkreath Hold. Jim guided Serana north to a large manor.

"My homestead," Jim introduced. "Lakeview Manor…"

"You never _did_ strike me as a city-boy," Serana remarked. "Still…"

"What can I say?" Jim replied. "I love rough country…"

The manor had an entryway and two floors in the main hall, and a back store room and cellar. There was a bedroom in the west wing, and an armory in the east wing. The furnishings were simplistic—Jim went out of his way to keep costs low—but still managed to come off as luxurious.

The main hall was mostly empty except for a single man who was a tad bit younger than Jim. Like Jim he had black hair, but was instead clean-shaven and dressed elegantly, much like nobility or someone in charge. His pale green eyes stood a sharp contrast to his facial features and the aura of professionalism he seemed to radiate.

"You're back," he stated. "Safe as always I see, Commander…"

"Miller," Jim acknowledged to his second-in-command. Miller had originally been a captain within the Empire's navy—he was far from any privateer. If you needed to win a naval battle or navigate a violent storm at sea, Miller was the man anyone would want in command. More often than not, Miller wore the cutlass he used in his naval career—more a mark of his past than a weapon, as Jim had never seen him draw the blade let alone actually fight.

Unlike Jim, Miller saw opposing the Dominion as being simply the right thing to do—he wasn't motivated by revenge or anger. It was for that reason that Jim trusted him so much…

"Friend of yours?" Miller asked when he laid eyes on Serana.

"Yes," Jim replied. "I need to fill you in on the situation, and then I need to see the maps…"

Jim turned his head to Serana, who had set down the Elder Scrolls on the main hall's dining table. "Go ahead and take a look around the Manor," he said.

"Sir, are those—," Miller started.

"Elder Scrolls?" Jim finished for him. "Yes, they are… oh, damn it. Where to I start with all this?"

* * *

It took Jim the better part of an hour to explain the story to Miller, during which time Serana took a look at two places. The first was the cellar, filled with the shrines to the Divines and a blacksmith's forge. It made Serana wonder why there was an armory up top to begin with—it seemed a bit redundant to her.

She wasn't a smith, though… There had to be some reasoning behind that…

Outside was a stable, animal pen, a carriage, an apiary and a garden. The "garden" could more appropriately be called a small graveyard—there were two graves and an unused headstone. Both of the graves were marked: Lidya and Jon. The unused headstone had Jim's name on it, quite literally.

That Jim already had a gravestone prepared for himself told Serana about his obsession with death.

Lidya's grave had one addition to it: a wedding ring attached to a chain—identical in appearance to the ring Jim wore on the chain around his neck.

"I tried all I could," said a whisper in Serana's ear. "But I couldn't get through to Jim, and I can't rest while I see him like this…"

"Are you Lidya?" Serana asked. She turned to see who had whispered in her ear.

Befitting of many ghosts, the woman had a tint of blue over her skin and figure—her face could be seen as if she were actually there, however. To Serana, looking at her was like looking in a mirror for the first few seconds.

"Liddy…" the ghost said, answering Serana's question. "He always used to call me that…"

Like Serana, Lidya had black hair and near-flawless skin. Her hair had been gathered back into a bun rather than braids, and her nose and jaw were far thinner. She was indeed beautiful, as Jim had described.

"I know what you are," Lidya said. "And I've been watching you two while you've been traveling on this plane. I saw when you saved him from that one vampire, and I saw you nursing him to health later…"

"You were right," she added, bowing her head and closing her eyes. "It hurts me even now to see what Jim is doing to himself…"

"I…" Serana trailed. "I offered him the chance to talk to you one last time…and I don't want to feel like I'm keeping you from resting."

"I've been restless for six years—ever since I died," Lidya said. "You're disturbing nothing…but maybe you can help me find the rest I want."

"What do you want me to do?" Serana asked.

"You have skill in Conjuration…in necromancy," Lidya replied. It was a statement, not a question. "This spirit form of mine cannot appear to Jim as it is—my connection to this plane is too weak for anyone without sufficient magical prowess to see me, including him. But you can strengthen it enough for a short time…"

She opened her eyes, and added, "Bring Jim here tonight and let me talk to him…please…"

Serana nodded, at a loss for words.

* * *

"You're sure you haven't been drinking too much?" Miller had asked after Jim had retold the tale of what he and Serana had gone through.

"Damn it, I know what I've experienced," Jim responded in great irritation.

"Alright, calm down," Miller replied.

"So, I need to check the maps of the Hold," Jim said. "I know that we mapped out most of the hold in the past, so finding the Ancestor Glade that Dexion mentioned should be simple…"

He eyed the maps Miller had pulled out—all caves and locations that had already been scouted out completely were marked in small white flags. Of interest, however, was a small red flag slightly south of Peak's Shade Tower—ruins directly west of Falkreath.

"Why hasn't this place been mapped out?" Jim asked.

"Scout encountered a cave-in several paces in—seemed conveniently placed," Miller replied. "They swore they heard what sounded like a waterfall on the other side—that was nearly two weeks ago. Maybe the glade is beyond the rock fall…"

"The old Dwemer satchel charges…do we still have some?"

"Two of them in the cellar," Miller replied.

What had been revealed in the third era was that Mournhold—former capital city of Morrowind—was actually built over a Dwemer ruin. There were said to be blasting charges that they used to clear cave-ins and wreckage, and that the Nerevarine himself used them over the course of several incursions. Few ruins in Skyrim had any satchels, though—Jim found only four across all the Dwemer ruins he explored.

Still, one would be enough…

Serana came back in from outside, looking like she saw a ghost—not personal demons, but a literal ghost. Jim didn't like the look in her eyes—a look beyond nervousness or concern. Jim wasn't the kind of person to be shaken up by appearances alone, but seeing Serana's expression put a knot in his stomach and added undue tension to his muscles. Jim wished he knew what was on her mind, but the link between them was one-way as far as he knew.

She noticed the unease she was causing Jim, too, because she immediately broke eye contact and shook her head.

"So, do we have a lead on where this Ancestor Glade is?" she asked.

"We do," Jim answered, tension and knot easing until they were nothing. He pointed at the spot on the map, "Right here…there's a cave-in that we're going to have to clear out, though. But we've got some satchel charges to help clear the way…"

"Are those some type of explosives?"

"Yeah," Jim replied. "Dwemer in origin…powerful stuff—some of the things we've put together don't even come close to it where power is concerned."

"Cave-in is pretty thick," Miller said. "It would take a few days at the least to dig through it with picks."

"Still, better to get it done sooner rather than later," Jim finished Miller's thoughts. "We move first thing in the morning…"

* * *

Serana was a lot stealthier than Jim ever seemed to manage—she snuck up and woke him up in the dead of night without causing a stir. Miller had been asleep in the rooms on the second story, and Jim had offered her the double bed on the east side of that same floor.

So, Serana had startled him when she appeared in his west wing bedroom on the ground floor. He didn't yelp—he wasn't _that_ excitable—but he did visibly flinch.

"Serana?" he asked in a hushed tone. "Give me a little more warning before you do that…"

"Jim, I need to show you something," she said.

She brought him to the graves that night, and Jim wondered whether Serana could really do what she said she would or whether she had said what she did in Solitude for the sake of comforting him. Either way, seeing the gravestones brought a great deal of painful thoughts to Jim.

He placed a hand on Lidya's headstone while Serana stood behind him with her hands clasped together. His head was bowed…

"Darlin', I'm so sorry," Jim said before hesitating.

"_Can I really do this?"_ he asked himself.

"Liddy, please…forgive me," Jim trailed. Hopelessness filled his heart when he was met with silence—until a familiar voice came that dashed the feelings away.

"How can I forgive you…" the voice said "…when you did nothing wrong?"

Her voice was always distinctively soft and soothing—a warm fire that greeted a weary man who traveled Skyrim's frozen regions. Jim looked up, and marveled that he saw _her_ right in front of his eyes.

"It's been six years, my dear," Lidya said, a small smile forming on her lips.

* * *

**Author's note: I've decided to end this on somewhat of a cliffhanger and continue this on the next chapter, which is likely to be around one-third the length of this one.**


	16. Chapter 16: Absolved

**Author's note: I fear I'm not all that good at writing tearjerkers, but I did what I could here. Enjoy!**

* * *

If he was seeing an illusion, it felt real enough to make Jim feel the urge to hold his lost love in his arms once more. He blinked several times—checking to see that he wasn't just seeing things and that the voice he heard wasn't just in his head. Sure enough, she stayed before his eyes as if she were still alive…as if she never wasted away.

"Six years," she said. "And twelve years since we first met, Jim… Do you remember?"

The voice was real, soft and inquisitive—a reflection of her narrow face and softly pointed nose.

"Lidya…" Jim trailed. "Not a day went by since I lost both you and Jon that I wasn't thinking about you."

"I know…I'm happy that you choose to remember us," Lidya said. "But…I also see that you're letting yourself rot from grief and misplaced guilt—like I did in the days before I passed."

"Misplaced?"

"Fate separated us—it did things that we didn't want…we can't change it, but we can accept it…" she said. "I realized that only when it was too late, and by then I took solace in the fact that you were there…"

"By your bedside…" Jim finished for her.

"Thinking of me…" she added.

"What about Jon?" Jim asked. "Was it fate that we lost him? Was it fate that I wasn't with you two…that I couldn't save him?"

The silence that lay between Jim and the spirit of his late wife could have lasted forever—it sent a chill down Serana's spine as she observed. At least until she decided to speak her mind.

"You can't hold yourself at fault, Jim," Serana said. "You were guarding the Count of Bruma, as you were ordered that week. What could you have done apart from your duty with a whole province between you all?"

Jim turned to her with tears in his eyes and said, "I could have requested to leave with them for the trip—I would have, too."

"But duty came first…" Lidya trailed off behind him.

"Yes…" Jim said.

"And now…" Lidya trailed. "I see you standing here as Dragonborn—my husband…a hero of legend with a whole future ahead but still unable to put the past to rest."

She continued on: "The six years I shared with you were the best of my life. I am very, very proud of the man you've become. Please, keep being who you are, and cast off the grief that has chained your heart for so long…"

Jim stepped up to Lidya and—forgetting that she was a ghost—embraced her, surprised that his arms touched anything tangible. She hugged back, filling his weary heart with warmth—comfort that she had always given him in life.

"The woman you travel with," Lidya whispered in his ear. "I feel how dear she is to your heart—love her as you have loved me. And one more thing…"

She then kissed him like any wife would do—the kiss was as passionate as it was in life, tongue and all. Jim accepted it after a few seconds of shock, eyes closed and hearing every breath taken by him and Lidya.

One last kiss…and one last breath they shared.

"Live on, Jim," Lidya said. "And remember me and remember that I will always love you…"

Looking at Serana, she trailed, "Thank you…"

She broke off their embrace, wiping Jim's tears with her slender fingers. "Now I can rest…Goodbye, my dear…"

With these words, Lidya Ridley—late wife of Jim Ridley—faded away to a peaceful rest.

* * *

At the end of it all, Jim sat on the ground cross-legged eyeing Lidya's gravestone as Serana watched on. No words had been exchanged between them in the fifteen minutes since Lidya had departed, but Serana could feel that Jim's burden was gone…or at least eased.

"Jim, are you alright?" Serana asked.

"I think…" he trailed. "I think I will be, Serana. Thank you. And thanks for letting me have this chance—without it…I don't know what I would've done."

She walked up and knelt beside him, setting a cool hand on his shoulder. She had no words to say, and the two exchanged looks. Mutual feelings passed between them—but where they led would have to wait. Still, Jim hadn't slept so peacefully in a long time—tears not of sadness, but of joy, flowed from his face as he slept with Serana in his arms. He had been absolved…

He was free…


	17. Chapter 17: The Glade

Serana awoke that morning alone, sunlight bleeding through the windows. It must have almost been midday; they were running behind. She willed her body to move, but it didn't want to—she tried again, rolling over to find the bedroom door open, and the scent of burning firewood filled her nostrils. Footsteps resounded in the main hall and found her ears—just like that, Serana's body became alert.

Her feet found the floor and she stepped lightly, peeking beyond the open door. Miller was up, placing more firewood into the fireplace toward the back of the hall. Jim was nowhere to be seen though…

"Good morning," Serana said, prompting Miller to turn to her. He didn't answer, seemingly locked in thought until Serana asked, "Where's Jim?"

"Outside," he answered. "Not sure why, but he pulled out a pipe and tobacco jar from his folk's farm—he only does that on special occasions, though… I wonder what happened..."

Serana could feel a small smile forming at the corners of her mouth.

"I know what's going on," she said. "He's saying 'goodbye' before we leave."

"Saying 'goodbye'?" Miller asked. "To who?"

Serana didn't answer; she merely locked eyes with him. The message, unspoken as it was, was being conveyed. Then the realization hit him as his eyes broke contact, giving a ponderous look as if watching the horizon.

"I see…" Miller trailed.

Sure enough, Serana found Jim—completely armored—in front of Lidya's grave. He was fashioning his chain with the wedding ring on it together with hers—a symbolic representation of what had occurred last night. At the end of it all, both chains went through the matching rings—then, Jim lit the tobacco pipe with a candle he'd brought out with him.

"You're up," Jim said plainly. "I was about to wake you up myself after I was done."

She walked up to him, kneeling next to him and placing a cool hand on his armored shoulder.

"You're still alright…right?" Serana asked.

"Yeah…the memories will always be there, though," he said. "It's enough to know that they didn't die angry…I guess it was the closure I truly wanted."

He inhaled from the pipe, letting the smoke hang as the silence between them was drowned out by the chirping of sparrows and the incessant droning of cicadas and other insects during mating season.

"I failed," Jim said. "I regret it, but I accept it nonetheless…the regret is what sets me apart from your father."

Serana nodded, saying, "We became clutter to him—I don't know if he's truly insane and lost to us or if the was rotten all along and regrets nothing that's happened. I'm willing to believe that it's a bit of both…driven mad with power and suddenly he wasn't my father anymore—or maybe that's just my mind's way of trying to cope with it is all."

"What happens if we win…to you, I mean?" Jim asked. "I could probably get the Dawnguard to leave you alone, but I'm not sure if I could negotiate the same for your mother…"

"I'm sure the Dawnguard can probably see the advantages of having a vampire on their side," she answered. "Assuming you can get the idea into Isran's thick skull…"

"Isran wouldn't know a good advantage if it hit him straight in the jaw," Jim chuckled. "One of his other men—Celann, I think his name was—is probably more practical… Anyways, no sense in talking about it right away—we'd better get to finding that Glade."

* * *

The cave opening to the Ancestor Glade lay on switchback ascending the Jerall Mountains, right along the way to Ancient's Ascent. The cave was quite warm, and Jim's keen hearing could make out the muffled noise of running water beyond the cave-in that lie across the stone bridge.

"Not very impressive, is it?" Serana asked rhetorically. "If this turns out to be a goose chase, your friend Dexion and I are going to have a talk when we get back…"

Jim nodded, no words coming to mind.

Crossing the stone bridge, he dug some of the boulders out of the way by hand before wedging the Dwemer charge tightly in the opening he'd made.

"Get back by the entrance and cover your ears," Jim said. "I doubt the blast will reach past the bridge, but still…"

Once Serana did so, Jim primed the eight-second fuse and ran back to her, reaching her just as the charge blew. The explosion echoed past them and a small distance outside the cave, thundering like the storms that would hit Solitude every so often.

Serana was slightly fidgeting in the aftermath of the explosion, but Jim didn't get off as scot-free—even though they were covered, his ears rang for the better part of five minutes, as his eardrums had nearly blown out. Even after that, sounds were muffled for the following couple minutes—as it was, he could barely make out Serana's question.

It was times like this that he hated having keen hearing…

"Are…alright?" she asked. "…hear me?"

Some words were lost completely, but Jim understood.

"I'm hard of hearing," he answered. "But alright otherwise…let's keep going."

There had still been some rubble in the way, but nothing that couldn't be removed effortlessly by hand. Jim couldn't fit through with his armor on…

"Maybe I've been putting too much muscle on," he joked.

"Or fat…" Serana said right back. Oh, Jim definitely heard that—he gave a throaty half-growl of mock anger.

"You, on the other hand, could use _more_ weight," Jim cracked.

"How dare you!" Serana exclaimed.

Jim smirked—normally when people said such words, they sounded angry, frustrated, or at least slightly intimidating. Instead, Serana sounded quite…humored—the laugh she gave off after really said a lot.

Jim dug through enough of what was left so that he could fit through, allowing Serana to go through first simply because he was a gentleman. For as much of the rubble as he removed, it was still a tight fit; he had to push his pack through before himself.

Serana's shadow could be seen up ahead as she waited for him. Jim fastened the pack around him before running to catch up, and as he got closer he could see she wasn't looking at him. The scent of pine trees filled his nose and the sound of running water was plainly heard.

This was the place!

Serana had a shocked expression, but not at all in a bad way. When Jim saw what she did, he froze dead next to her.

"It almost doesn't even seem real, you know?" Serana asked.

"It sure is a beautiful sight," Jim answered.

The glade reminded Jim of Eldergleam's Sanctuary—he once made the journey there to see the ancient tree said to have been blessed by the goddess Kynareth. Much like the Sanctuary, the glade could hardly be called an actual cave—it would be more appropriate to call it a basin, with its open access to the sky. Several conifers dotted the glade, along with hot springs along with a small creek from a waterfall nearby.

There were other trees, the likes of which Jim had never seen before. They looked so out of place in a cave in Skyrim, like something that would be more at home in the wilds of Cyrodiil. From where he and Serana stood, they looked like had white leaves or flowers with several orange and pink buds.

They had to be the Canticle trees…

"I would like to come back here again when this is all over," Serana said.

"I agree…" Jim replied, "First things first, though…"

She nodded, and they descended down the moss-covered stone stairs. This place was ancient—if it weren't for the standing stone in the center of the glade, Jim would have said that absolutely nobody ever set foot here before. In the hole at the center was what must have been the draw knife.

Cautious, Jim carefully removed the draw knife from the hole, aware of the curved blade, the handles on each end—much like typical draw knives used by woodworkers—and the almost unnaturally sharp edge. It was as if it was fresh out of the forge and not sitting in a cave without being maintained, seldom used. In fact, the edge was so fine Jim hardly had to put any effort behind removing the bark, and the tree trunk was left perfectly smooth where the bark was.

Something happened as Jim held the bark: a swarm of nearby moths—wings the same color as the buds on the canticle trees—suddenly circled him, drawn to him…annoyingly so.

"Damn moths," Jim cursed. "What are they doing?"

"They certainly seem to have taken a liking to you, now that you're carrying that bark," Serana said with a chuckle. "I guess we should have expected this. Moths…moth priests—had to figure there was some kind of connection there."

"If you say so," Jim replied. "What do we do now?"

"Unless my vision's playing tricks on me, you're starting to glimmer," Serana said. "And the column of light here seems to be getting more focused when more moths are around you…"

"So, I get to be idolized and be the center of attention _again_," Jim said and—in sarcasm added, "It's everything I wanted…"

Pushing the thoughts behind him, Jim moved to find more moth swarms and tried to ignore the moths already swarming him along with the pollen being kicked up. After several more swarms were found, the light in the center became intense—almost as if it was solid.

"I'm guessing that's the cue," Jim said as he walked toward the column of light.

Apprehension gripped him as he pulled the Elder Scrolls from his pack; he may have read one of the scrolls and come out alright before, but the circumstances were different. Destiny—if it could be called that—dictated that he read the scroll to learn the Shout needed to defeat Alduin. Likewise, destiny seemed kind enough to leave him unscathed by the Elder Scroll's effects on the sight and mind—like it damaged the mind of the scholar Septimus Signus, whose very speech and writing became near-incomprehensible.

But that destiny was no longer on his shoulders—what if this time would be it for him? No longer able to see…to fight…to live like a man should—though it was not as though Jim had the luxury of a normal life. Even so, the apprehension was an ironclad hand squeezing his heart, threatening to crush it.

Standing in the light, with the Elder Scroll of Blood in his hand, he opened it before his eyes. A bright pattern leapt forward from the Scroll, stars from the night sky engulfing him as all his vision not pertaining to the reading blurred and bent around him.

The patterns gradually eased into…some type of terrain—the Scroll revealed no more…

On reflex, Jim drew the second scroll, somehow knowing which one he had to read next. His heart pounded like the galloping hooves of a frightened horse, threatening to crush his soul and vision underfoot. Lines and grooves appeared in the terrain…mountains and rivers, Jim believed. This scroll also faded…

The final scroll…Jim's body also opened that of its own accord, despite his mind blaring at him to stop reading. The lines on the mystical map before him met, and two crests appeared—the seal of Haafingar Hold, the head of the wolf and seat of Solitude, and the seal of the Reach, the ram's horns and where the city of Markarth was…finally a rune appeared in between north of the Karth River that ran from one to the other.

_Darkfall Cave…_

The soft, otherwise indistinguishable voice echoed in his mind…the cave where Auriel's Bow lay was in the Reach.

The map pulsated and burned into his mind before the vision darkened—that darkness engulfed Jim as he fainted…

The next thing he could make out several minutes later was Serana nudging and shaking him. "Jim? Jim!? Wake up…by the Divines, wake up! Don't leave me here…"

His eyes crept open and fluttered for several seconds as he tried to recall what had happened, except that he didn't need to—the reading was carved into his head, unable to be forgotten. The map of the entire province…

"Ungh…" Jim grunted. "I wasn't sure I would live through that—somehow, I got off the hook yet again."

Serana let out the lump of air in her throat—she wasn't even aware that she was holding her breath. The fire of her eyes revealed themselves as she opened them after her sigh…

With a grunt and considerable effort, Jim sat upright.

"That was…intense," Jim said. "No, more than just intense…not quite like the Soul Cairn, though."

"For a second, I thought that was it for you," Serana said, placing a hand along his jaw line, disturbing the coarse and thick beard. "You went white as snow…"

"Damn, my head hurts…I suppose I should consider myself lucky I can still see," Jim replied. "The bow…I know _exactly_ where to look—we need to get to the Reach."

"The Reach?" Serana asked. "You're sure?"

"The Scrolls gave me its location," Jim said. "And burned the map of Skyrim into my head in the process…"

"What do we do with them?" Serana asked, pointing to the scrolls.

"Miller has a few contacts…he can get them back to the College easily," Jim replied, he extended his open hand.

"I don't suppose you'd help an old man like me to his feet, would you?" he asked with a grin on his weathered face, half-joking.

She smiled and took his hand in hers, more than happy to oblige…


	18. Chapter 18: Darkfall Cave

**Author's Note: My apologies for the delay in getting this up. Writer's block has been hitting me hard-I thank anyone still following for putting up with the delays.**

* * *

With the Elder Scrolls safely in the Raiders' hands for delivery, Jim and Serana went to the Reach's Druadach Mountains which bordered High Rock. Jim knew Darkfall Cave was a considerable distance north of Druadach Redoubt and the ruins Sorine stood at not so long ago.

Despite the recent trip to the Reach Jim made since taking this contract, it felt like centuries since he last stepped—in fact, he often went out of his way to avoid this hold. This was about tied with Eastmarch for Jim's least favorite hold—and not for the prejudice or the dangers, either. There was just something about this hold that didn't scream "Skyrim" to Jim…

Everything inside the cave was pitch-black save for a circle of light up ahead. Jim's keen ears could pick out the sound of rushing water deeper in.

"Pretty dark here," Serana commented. "Even by a vampire's standards…"

"It's Darkfall Cave—the name says it all," Jim chuckled. "What else is to be expected?"

After everything Jim had experienced in the past weeks, facing Frostbite Spiders was a welcome change of pace. Jim led to the source of the sound of rushing water, past several bends. The walls were covered in webbing, which got thicker the deeper into the cave they went. There wasn't much to talk about—Frostbite Spiders didn't pose a big threat and served only to delay their progress, which ultimately stopped at a rickety wooden bridge over a small…stream?

"A dead end?" Jim asked rhetorically. "Let's cross one at a time…"

The bridge held, though it was obviously on its last legs—the moisture in the cavern ate away at the wood and weakened the ropes holding the bridge up. Being the heavier one, Jim went first and Serana soon followed.

"Nothing but ore here," Serana commented. "Great…"

Jim crouched at the edge, looking down at the stream. Seemed deep enough to land safely, and it looked like it led somewhere, but…

"Damn shame the current is so strong," Jim said. "That probably would have been our best bet…"

He stood, keeping his gaze on where the current went.

"Sounds like it runs pretty deep," he said. "We should see if there's any other way…"

Jim's luck must have been spent over the last couple weeks, because the ropes supporting the bridge gave way when he tried to cross back over. With a quick hand, he grabbed the planks that once made up the walkway itself—several broke before he hung waist deep in the water, his grip being the only reason that the current didn't sweep him away.

"Jim!" Serana yelled.

"Serana!?" Jim asked. "Are you still up there? The bridge gave way…"

He looked up, and saw her flaming eyes looking down at him—a dozen emotions and thoughts must have been racing through her mind, one of which was the question of how was she going to get Jim back up.

"I can't get back," Jim said. "Too many rungs are broken…I think I see where this goes!"

"Jim, don't! That's crazy!" she exclaimed over the rushing water. "What if that leads to a death drop!?"

"I don't have much choice!" he answered. "I'll survive, don't worry!"

To Serana's protests, Jim let go—the current carried him past several bends and a waterfall emptying into yet another stream. Except that now he was sharing the stream with several Frostbite Spiders—and then there was an abrupt absence of anything under him. Then there was a solid impact as he hit a cave floor, cushioned by the webbing covering the floor.

He fought off the Spiders that had come from the water, with hardly a scratch put into his ebony armor. There were more Frostbite Spiders up ahead, though.

"Umm, Serana!?" he yelled, hoping his voice could reach far enough. "There's a little pest problem here!"

The words didn't carry, but the thoughts reached through their bond. Equal parts relieved and frustrated, Serana jumped into the river—deadened nerves meant that the pain from hitting the sides on the way to Jim faded immediately. If only the current didn't carry her emotions along with her…

The water's temperature didn't bother her, but it soaked her clothes and made moving uncomfortable. Before she knew it, she landed on her rump and felt her fingers touch silky strands of webbing. The sound of fighting jolted her to attention, and she could make out Jim thrusting his sword through the abdomen of a spider. Drenched in what must have been the blood of the spiders, Jim turned in time to see yet another spider heading his way.

It took an ice spike to the head after Serana cast her spell, not letting Jim have the satisfaction of finishing the encounter off.

When they approached each other, Serana slapped Jim across the face—much to his confusion.

"What was that for?" Jim asked.

"That was for being reckless," she answered. "You are one stubborn dog…"

"Am I?"

She then hugged him hard, ignoring the spider blood covering him. His armor was too bulky for her hands to meet at his back, but she didn't care.

"More stubborn than any man or beast I ever met," Serana responded. "But…that's part of what I like about you..."

"You know I risk myself day by day," Jim said, his voice reverberating through the armor under her ear—a cymbal set in motion entirely by the raspy baritone of his voice.

"I hope that doesn't stain easily," Jim said, adding levity to the situation. Serana let go and looked down at her clothing and wiping the spider blood off the skin of her chest. She was glad at this moment that her heart didn't beat—if it did, she would've been blushing in embarrassment.

"It won't show," she replied with a chuckle. "It's mostly black after all…"

They pushed on, the water now ankle deep with a weak current. Several glowing mushrooms lit their way, leading them to a lit sconce set up relatively recently. The upwards slopes in the fork met up and led to the same place—an abandoned campfire.

Well, not entirely abandoned—corpses littered the area around it. There was a woman in her later years and one of those lizards…Argonians—the word was quite a mouthful. It was obvious that they died slowly, and recently.

Jim turned the woman's body to face up, the scent of blood filling his nose. Her eyes were wide open and glazed, afire with fear and agony that she no doubt must have felt before death.

"Her wounds weren't caused by the spiders," Jim said. "This is a troll's kill if I've ever seen one—she bled to death from her claw wounds. Strange—she wasn't eaten…"

"What could drive someone to live here?" Serana asked. Jim let the question hang, letting her know that he didn't have a single clue.

The path to the left led upwards to a dead end, so the right path down was the only option. Jim caught sight of the tripwire too late, and then heard wood creak and rock hitting rock—he risked looking back. Several small boulders were rolling down the hill right toward them.

"Move!" Jim barked. They ran full sprint, turning the two sharp bends just as the rocks crashed against the cave wall.

He was hardly even short of breath; still, the close calls he's had with death were enough to make him pant. Serana stood there by him holding her wrist, which she apparently scraped along the cave wall as they were running—it went deep enough to draw blood, and a lot of it. The wound was already healing up, though…

She wasn't in any danger…

"Cutting it close…" she said.

"Stick around," Jim said. "I get into close calls all the time…"

"Is that a boast?" Serana asked.

"Nope—it's a fact," he answered.

The spacious cavern ahead was a welcome change—Jim was coming close to becoming claustrophobic. The water reflected light toward the cave ceiling, but that was the odd part: unless someone had set up camp ahead, there shouldn't be any light at all, let alone sunlight.

Jim could make out two frost trolls in the distance on the other side of the cavern lake, entirely unaware or perhaps indifferent to the presence of the two intruders in their territory. If they just kept their distance and moved quietly through the darkness, Jim and Serana could save themselves some trouble.

Jim crouched, moving slowly, and Serana followed suit. Both blended into the shadows seamlessly, moving toward the source of the light. The trolls never even turned to face them…

"Close one," Jim said. "Hmm?"

His eyes were drawn to the source of the light: some type of camp with a set of shrines. Apart from the shrines, there was someone standing there—stature comparable to a high elf. Set up was a bedroll and a wooden shelter. The shrines were adorned with a sun motif—Serana seemed to know what they meant. She looked on curious…

As the pair inched closer, Jim could make out that the person was an elf—though one that he had never seen before. The skin was pale white, like snow, and the armor he wore seemed to be made of carved bone.

Jim placed a hand on the hilt of his blade when he saw the elf look his way. The words that came took him entirely off guard.

"Come forward," the elf said in a low tenor voice, breathy to boot. "You have nothing o fear here."

Jim's grip on the hilt relaxed, but he didn't take his hand off it for a second. He kept Serana behind him and cautiously approached.


	19. Chapter 19: Hope for the Best

**Author's note/apology: I would like to apologize to everyone who was waiting so patiently. Semester projects and a general case of writer's block were hitting me quite hard. However, I've now decided to adopt a more "quality over quantity" to this Fanfic. I hope you all can understand and accept that.**

* * *

The elf had features that Jim had rarely seen on an elf—for one, his features seemed more chiseled and less angular than that of most elf races. His eyebrows met with his hair and reflected the snow white appearance of his skin. His eyes were an icy blue, surrounded by a touch of pink. The same pinkish pigment was present on his rounded nose and thin lips—it was like he had a cold, except that he seemed…well, healthy.

He was tall and muscular despite his elven frame. His cheeks were hollowed out prominently and his face was far more worn than Jim's own features—he must have been several centuries old, at least.

"I am Knight-Paladin Gelebor," the elf said, perfectly fluent. "Welcome to the great Chantry of Auri-El."

"This place is a temple to Auriel?" Jim asked.

The reply was nonchalant, "Auriel, Auri-El, Alkosh, Akatosh…so many names for the sovereign of the Snow Elves."

Jim's head hurt thinking about what was just said—Snow Elves hadn't existed as an intelligent race since the First Era. That was when they were wiped out or sent into hiding by Ysgramor of the Atmorans, the predecessors of the Nords of Skyrim. The ones left in hiding were said to have gone blind and have degenerated to animal-like behavior due to generation upon generation of living underground.

Those unfortunates were referred to as the Falmer…

"Snow Elf? You're a Falmer?" Jim asked, keeping a hand on the hilt of his blade. There was still tension in his muscles as he stayed prepared for any sudden aggressive action.

"I prefer 'Snow Elf'," Gelebor replied, in a tone that wouldn't be too out of place coming from a High Elf. "The name 'Falmer' usually holds a negative meaning to most travelers."

_Understandable,_ Jim thought. _He isn't trying to gut me like any Falmer I've fought before…_

"The twisted creatures you call Falmer, I call the Betrayed," Gelebor continued.

"The 'Betrayed'…" Jim trailed. Then, recomposing himself, he said "I imagine you know why we're here…"

"Of course," Gelebor replied, looking past Jim into Serana's eyes, his face stoic and eyes icy and expressionless—they betrayed nothing of the curiosity of seeing a vampire and a mortal traveling together. At least, that's what Jim figured.

"You're here for Auriel's Bow," Gelebor finished. "Why else would you be here?"

"You're right, of course," Jim said. "But how could you tell?"

"I know because others have sought it over the centuries," Gelebor answered. "But none have returned to tell about it—as for you…"

"Yes?" Jim said.

"It's like an aura…" Gelebor said. "You're different than all the others…"

He composed himself, and spoke quickly—it seemed the subject was extremely painful to him.

"I can help you get the bow, but first I must have your assistance," Gelebor said. "I need you to kill Arch-Curate Vyrthur…my brother."

"Arch-Curate? Brother?" Jim asked; his brow low as he frowned. "This better not be some political game you're playing—rising in the ranks and such…"

"I don't understand what he's become—but I know that the brother I knew is long lost," Gelebor countered. "I'm sure it was the Betrayed—they must have done something to him! I just…I don't understand how Auri-El could allow this to happen! The Betrayed swept the Chantry and began killing everyone without pause. I led a small group of paladins but we were not enough…"

Like that, the pride that Jim tended to see in many elves shattered, overshadowed by the realization that Gelebor lost all his brothers-in-arms—perhaps great friends—to the Betrayed.

"How can you be sure your brother is even alive?" Jim asked.

"Oh he's alive—I've seen him. But something's wrong: he never looks as though he's under pain or duress. He just… Stands there and watches, as though waiting. I would investigate, but leaving the Wayshrines unguarded would be a violation of my sacred duty as a Knight-Paladin of Auriel," Gelebor replied. "And an assault on the Betrayed in the Inner Sanctum would only end in my death…"

There it was—a service for a service, like things in life tended to be. Jim felt at last that Gelebor was trustworthy and took his hand off of his blade's hilt.

"You mentioned 'wayshrines'…" Jim trailed, at a loss. Gelebor smiled.

"Yes," Gelebor said. "Let me show you…"

He led them through the shallow water to the larger of the two shrines, charging a spell in his hands that glowed like the sun at dawn. Jim and Serana watched, entranced, as Gelebor released the spell, and the "shrine" rose out from the ground.

Jim had only once ever been to the Temple of the One in the Imperial City—well, what was left of it… While this was only a fraction of that size, it was roughly the same shape…and the stonework was carved far more intricately than the Temple of the One. Inside the shrine sat a font of water, perfectly placed in the middle.

Jim whistled in admiration.

"So this is Snow Elf magic," Serana complimented. "Incredible…"

"This is one of the wayshrines," Gelebor explained. "They were used for meditation and transport back when the Chantry was a place of enlightenment. Prelates of these shrines were charged with teaching the mantras of Auri-El to our initiates."

"What's the basin in the center signify?" Serana asked. Somehow, without Jim noticing, she had walked up to the steps of the shrine at the entrance to the shrine's interior.

"Once the initiate had completed his mantras, he would dip a ceremonial ewer in the basin within and then continue on to the next wayshrine," Gelebor explained.

"So these initiates had to lug around a heavy pitcher of water…marvelous," Serana commented in sarcasm not atypical of Jim himself. She asked, "How long would they have to do that?"

"Well, once the initiate's enlightenment was complete, he'd bring the ewer to the Chantry's Inner Sanctum. Pouring the contents of the ewer into the sacred basin of the Sanctum would allow him to enter for an audience with the Arch-Curate himself," Gelebor replied, weary and sad.

"All that just to dump it out?" Serana asked. "It doesn't make sense to me…"

It's symbolic," Gelebor said in a condescending tone, much to Serana's frustration. "I don't expect you to understand…"

Like an argument among nobles of different houses—Jim was not letting this spiral out of control. As unwarranted as Serana's frustration seemed to Jim, he wasn't about to chide her in front of anyone—he also wasn't keen on the idea of pulling a blade out on Gelebor.

"Let's clear this up," Jim interrupted. "You need us to follow in an initiate's path in order to access the Chantry and find and kill your brother…is that seriously the only way in?"

"I know how it all sounds, but if there was another way, I would have done it a long time ago…" Gelebor answered Jim. "Yes, it's exactly what you need to do—there are five wayshrines in all. The first lies at the end of Darkfall Passage…" he motioned to a portal behind the basin. "It represents the absence of enlightenment."

"Five? These caves must be massive," Jim commented. To his surprise, Gelebor sounded neither arrogant nor angry—he laughed. Did he say something funny?

"Caves? Oh no…the Chantry encompasses more than just a few caves, as you may soon discover," Gelebor said. "Of course, you will need the ewer…" He handed it to Jim, seemingly from nowhere—it seemed a typical pitcher, save for the design of arches on the side that ended in spikes protruding down and sideways. Jim assumed it was supposed to look like the sun when looked at from above or below.

_They sure take this symbolic gesture very seriously…_

"Fill this with water from each wayshrine…" Jim trailed. "And after that, empty it at the entrance to the Inner Sanctum…anything else we need to be aware of?"

"Each wayshrine has a spectral prelate tending to it—they perished in the attack," Gelebor answered. "They will allow access to the shrines, as if you've been enlightened. But they won't respond in any way, other than believing you to be an initiate."

"Then we'll be off," Jim said. "We'll be seeing you soon."

"One can hope…" Gelebor said wearily—it was like he heard the line countless times, only to be disappointed when others didn't return.

Jim really hit a nerve—clumsy him…

"Prepare for the worst and hope for the best," Jim said in an attempt to raise Gelebor's spirit. "My father always taught me that…"

"This father of yours must have been a wise man, then," Gelebor said, head up. "I'll take you at your word, then."

"Thank you," Jim said. He looked towards Serana at the top of the stairs and said, "Let's go…"

The portal itself was different from the ones in the Soul Cairn—it shimmered like water in a slight breeze. From where they stood, Jim could see where the portal would lead. Not assured by any means, Jim closed his eyes and stepped through as a feeling of falling in ice water filled his senses. Of all the magic in the world…

Why portals?

* * *

He came through on the other side, a tad bit queasy but very much intact. He was sure glad he hadn't eaten in several hours, or else he would probably have been hurling for the next five minutes. Forget sinking in the swamps of Black Marsh—this had the feeling of being tugged through an opposing current, with no way to breath and feeling like a month in a matter of seconds…it was far worse.

"That…was not as unpleasant as I thought it would be—kind of soothing actually," Serana chimed in behind him, dreamily. "I feel a little warmer, now."

"That makes one of us…" Jim trailed. "I'd be losing it all over the ground if I ate…and you'd be laughing."

"I'd never laugh at something like that," Serana said.

"I sniffed that lie," Jim said. "The idea of a portal, of all things, making me hurl _would_ be amusing…"

"Okay…you caught me," Serana chuckled.

"Anyways, we should move on," Jim said, taking a sip from the flask he carried. For his stomach, of course…

He heard chitin striking chitin—a sure sign that there was a chaurus somewhere in the area, which meant that the Falmer weren't far away. Disgusting things loved using the overgrown insects like hunting dogs.

Cautious, Jim led Serana and followed the plants…at least he thought they were plants. They came out of tube-like protuberances fixed to the ground. The plant itself emanated an indigo light from its reed-like body. As they passed by, it seemed to take on sentience—it retracted into its tube-like shelter, like prey hiding from a predator.

In turn, this robbed them of light…

Jim used what little he knew of Alteration magic to cast Magelight—the ball of pure white light hovered around him, helping him find his way through. As he led through the cave, the two found some sort of cocoon on a bend—and suddenly it burst open.

The thing that emerged looked like some perversion of a dragonfly crossed with a mantis—it had a stinger, with the potent venom that the chaurus were known for. The venom of such bugs had a pungent smell—this was definitely some variant of chaurus.

Ruthlessly, Serana launched two pairs of ice spikes, one salvo after the other. The chaurus hunter staggered back and out of the air, leaving Jim to finish it off with an armored boot to its head. The chitin—being fresh—easily gave way before Jim's heavy foot.

"Damn, that's nasty," Jim said, with a look of pure disgust and nearly lost the ale he just had. "Never encountered this type of chaurus before…"

"It was like a butterfly from a chrysalis," Serana remarked. "Except thousands of times more ugly…"

Jim echoed her sentiment with a grunt, and said nothing more on the topic. Playing the vanguard, Jim led through the cave cutting through more chaurus hunters and any Falmer that stood in their path.

He dodged the claw trap easily—it was in plain sight, after all. Exactly what was there to say? Falmer and chaurus stood in their way, feral and unintelligent—Jim had been all but desensitized to the common dangers of Falmer-infested caves after having traveled through so many. Traps were predictably placed, at least in his eyes.

It wasn't until the wayshrine could be seen on the other end of a large open cave that anything of note happened. The cave was filled with deer and a few saber cats that each had coloration that Jim never before saw. The saber cat in particular seemed to have less fur than the ones that wandered Skyrim's wilds—they were every bit as aggressive, though.

As he pulled his blade from the corpse of the saber cat, Jim found himself full of questions.

Saber cats? This far underground? It seemed so odd to Jim, and then he remembered what Gelebor had said.

"_The Chantry encompasses more than just a few caves, as you may soon discover…"_

He had a feeling that he was about to see what Gelebor had meant. He and Serana approached the wayshrine. If he never had to set foot in another cave again, it would be far too soon. He acknowledged the presence of the spectral prelate, who in turn asked the questions he did to initiates in life: if he was prepared to honor the mantras of Auri-El…

Jim answered to the affirmative, and the prelate seemed pleased by the answer. Casting a spell just like Gelebor did at the first wayshrine, the shrine rose from the ground. Portals appeared: one back to the previous shrine and one that seemed to go forward.

Dipping the ewer into the basin, Jim motioned for Serana to follow him through the portal.

_Damn…not again…_


	20. Chapter 20: The Forgotten Vale

**Author's Note: It's been a long time, hasn't it? My apologies-between finishing the semester and general writer's block, I've found myself unable to write. This chapter alone was left half finished for two months-and I feel it is evidence of me having to scrape the bottom of the bucket for ideas. For this reason, the next chapter will skip right toward the end of the Vale and into the Inner Sanctum.**

**Also, do _not_ pressure me to get chapters out, because that will just delay it** **more**.

* * *

This time, it was Serana's turn to feel woozy—Jim recovered quite quickly considering how much he hated portals. He insisted that she catch up with him…that he knew they were close to the surface, and that he would wait at the exit to this tunnel. She protested; she was more than capable of handling herself—if anything, she was more worried about Jim.

His gloved hand lightly touching her shoulder reassured her, the touch managing to be soft in spite of the ebony gauntlet. She felt herself steady, and said she would catch up in a few seconds.

She pulled a half-empty vial from her pack—it was the last blood potion she was carrying. Bottled blood was not the same as blood warm from the living—Serana remembered her first feeding: the satisfaction and euphoria as heat in the form of blood passed between her lips and settled in her stomach. Blood was a potent narcotic for a starved vampire. She had forgotten the feeling, remembering only once she turned Jim.

Serana caught herself looking at Jim as he walked ahead and felt the hunger rise in turn. He was pure warmth, she knew. She knew it when he held her in his arms, and when his weatherworn face touched her own. She felt the warmth and she hungered—for blood, and yet so much more than blood. Which hunger was stronger, she did not know.

No…she was better than this, damn it all…

She pushed aside all the thoughts and memories, and she downed what remained of the blood. It was temporary, she knew… That knowledge was what made her worry for Jim even more—if she gave in to her hunger around him…

She jogged after pocketing the empty vial, determined to catch up to Jim.

She could smell pine trees as she moved further and further towards the surface—Jim himself hadn't gotten all that far, being on the climb up and handling his pipe.

"I'm good now," Serana said, managing not to startle him.

"Glad to hear it, darlin'," Jim said, then added to that. "I guess now we find out just how big the Chantry is."

"If it is more than 'just a few caves', we may be in for a long haul," Serana said. "And if it's daytime out—ugh!"

The stop came so suddenly—Jim stopped dead in his tracks, leaving Serana to bump into him from behind and smack her head against his armor. She frowned and let out a slight huff of frustration, and moved to step past him.

"Jim, why did you stop so suddenly?" she asked. As soon as she asked, she looked forward and saw why.

"Whoa…" she trailed breathlessly. Jim's pipe dropped into the snow at his feet as his jaw dropped, seeming captivated by everything he saw—as was Serana.

They had stepped into one huge glacial valley, with snow and ice as far as the eye could see occasionally broken by patches of flora and rock walls. Where they stood was mostly dirt ground and dead grass covered by a thin layer of frost, becoming whiter as snow fell and settled on it. Eastmarch and the Pale had nothing on this place where snow was concerned.

"Unreal…" Serana trailed.

"Right in Skyrim's backyard, and no one even knew…" Jim said. "This is massive!"

"You know, Jim…" Serana teased as she turned to Jim, her pale fingers tracing his jaw. "You might just freeze if you stand and gawk all day…"

His mouth clamped shut and he grinned, "I bet you wouldn't mind starin' all day if we had time. But would you stare at me or all this?"

Serana chuckled as she wiped off the flakes of snow that were gathering on his beard. "Both, I guess…"

"I _do_ always go to the nicest places," he said, sarcastically.

* * *

As massive as the Vale was, two of the wayshrines were very quick to be found, and little beyond the local saber cats and Frostbite Spiders stood in the way. It wasn't until they had to cross a frozen over river that anything new was seen: a giant yeti-like creature, similar to the giants that made their camps across Skyrim's landscape—this giant was covered head to toe in white fur, with horns on the head and four icy-blue eyes.

Jim got more troll out of the features than giant. Much like the giants, being seen alone was not enough to provoke attack—the frost giant remained passive. So, leading Serana, Jim crossed the stream and avoided anything that the frost giant might have considered threatening. It seemed content to simply watch them pass, and the pair climbed the slope up to the next wayshrine.

"Am I the only one who finds it ironic that we're helping Gelebor?" Jim asked.

"Not so much ironic for you, but rather for me," Serana answered with a sigh. "Honestly, I don't think he or the Prelates really care what a vampire wants with Auriel's Bow—as long as we get rid of this Vyrthur character, I think they'll be content to just let us have it."

Drawing water from the basin at the next shrine, Jim could hear chanting in the dragon language somewhere in the distance. There had to be a word wall nearby—Jim was one to use Shouts only when in a tough spot. The tough spots were frequent, though. Until he met Serana, he that been purposefully avoiding using the Thu'um for the past months—he was wanted by the Dominion, after all.

Whatever word he could learn from the wall might come in handy, he thought. It was out in the middle of a frozen over lake, in the open…

Jim could feel his muscles tense up as suspicion entered his mind—he was quite eager to see what was written on the wall, but experience had long since drilled it into his mind that it's _never_ that easy.

"Wait here, Serana," he said at the overlook near the shrine, watching the lake.

"Why?" she asked.

"There's something on that island out there, but I can't shake the feeling that something bad will happen on the way," he explained. "I need you to stay here, and keep lookout."

She frowned, knowing that that wasn't the full reason he was asking her to stay behind. The ember of her eyes dug far into his mind, through his own eyes.

"Serana, I don't want you to get hurt on my account," Jim confessed. "I can hear the chanting—there's a word to a Shout there. I also sense something under the ice…I'm not quite sure what…"

"And you don't want _me_ to get hurt?" Serana asked. "Last I check, you nearly died sheltering me from a fall that would have killed just about anyone else. _I'm_ more worried about _you_ getting hurt."

"You saw my memories," Jim said. "You _know_ what I've survived."

"And _I_ survived _along_ with you this past week," Serana said. "You shouldn't lack confidence in me. Do you think I'm _weak_!?"

Jim gasped at the implication and sighed wearily, looking down at the ground.

"I didn't mean to imply…" he trailed. "I just got my mind out of the past, with your help. I've blamed myself for failing my family for so long. If I lost you so soon after that…there would be nothing left of me, save for an empty shell of a man."

"Trapped in endless cynicism," Serana concluded. "Desensitized to the misery of others…"

"Yes…" Jim agreed.

"I'll wait, Jim," Serana said, placing a hand on his face. "But I _will_ come and help you if there's trouble. I'm not going to lose you, and _you_ are not going to lose me."

"Serana…thanks," Jim said. It was obvious that there was no talking her out of this. She was as stubborn as he was, and he admired her for that.

The ice held firm under his feet, and it was mostly topped with the ever-falling snow, which helped Jim's traction immensely. Serana stood at the cliff overlooking the lake, watching out for Jim.

His suspicions proved to be spot-on—he was hardly halfway to the word wall when two shapes broke out of the ice near him. Dragons…and unique ones at that—compared to the extreme bulk of the dragons Jim faced in the past, these two were lithe. Their bodies were thinner and heads seemed tapered and pointed to make cutting through water so effortless.

In the air they were like any other dragon—underwater, it was a whole different fight. He couldn't fight underwater, even with waterbreathing enchantments. As a matter of fact, no one could in this era—the Nine must have felt particularly mischievous when they declared that. Third era fighters were said to be competent at underwater fighting—sluggish, but competent…

_But I digress…_

"JOOR ZAH FRUL!" Jim Shouted, wanting to ground the dragons and take them out one at a time in a timely manner...

The dragon landed, but the other one unexpectedly dove through the ice and forced Jim's attention off of his target. That was when the grounded dragon hit him…

"GAAN LAH HAAS!" It Shouted…

The effects were profound: Jim found his already-abysmal magicka reserves fading, his stamina draining, and he felt his body becoming lethargic as his heart hammered. His life was being drained at a slow but steady rate.

Jim thrust his blade out of desperation, catching the dragon on its snout. The distraction bought the dragon the time for it to recover from Dragonrend, and it lifted off of the ice it landed. Then, the ice spike flew and hit the dragon in the chest…

He saw this coming…

Serana was rushing to the fight, running gracefully as if there was no ice under her feet. In that instant, Jim saw the epitome of precise movement within her—all while ice spikes flew from her hand without pause.

Unfortunately, daybreak was mere moments away…

Surrounded…drained…and with the sun up—there was simply no way they were going to survive. That is, unless Jim got the help of an old acquaintance…

"ODAHVIING!" Jim yelled.

Nothing happened…

"Jim…" Serana started. "Wha–"

A roar filled the sky, making the roars given off by the twin dragons sound like puppy whimpers by comparison…and the shape of a dragon, rusty red in color, came through the curtain of the clouds. At this sight, the twin dragons fell back—it was to change tactics, Jim imagined.

"_Drem Yol Lok, Dovahkiin,_" the new arrival said. "I see you have summoned me for _Grah_—for battle!"

"Odahviing—fellow dovah," Jim said. "Your assistance is needed—your fire, claws and fangs are needed for this encounter. Will you fight this battle with me?"

"_Zu'u Mir Los Wah Hin, Dovahkiin_," Odahviing replied. "My allegiance is to you…now, to battle!"

Jim turned to see Serana staring aghast, no doubt shocked over the prospect of Jim actually having a dragon friend…or at least, encountering a dragon that _wasn't_ keen on killing them.

"How did you…" she trailed.

"Ask later," Jim answered. "We got two dragons to deal with…"

Between the three of them, it went rather…uh…swimmingly. While Jim had one grounded on the ice, Odahviing kept the other in the air a fair distance away. Jim made short work of the first dragon, and Odahviing and the other dragon stayed evenly matched—Jim used the time to give Serana some potions for restoring Magicka, as the sun's presence made it impossible for her reserves to replenish on their own.

For himself, he took a single potion of Stamina—no replacement for a nice meal, but it would hold him for the fight. Taking the Dragonbone bow (which had miraculously survived the fall from the castle balcony), Jim took aim and let the arrow fly—dead center hit on the dragon. It staggered mid-air and moved to land on the ice as Odahviing continued hitting it with jet of flame.

When Odahviing's jet of fire subsided, Jim hit the dragon with his own Fire Breath and finished it off just as he'd finished absorbing the first dragon's soul. Spectral fire engulfed him—and he would never completely get used to the feeling of absorbing a dragon's soul. The first time it happened, his muscles seized up and he could hardly get off the ground. To this day, his muscles tensed whenever it happened—he was never helpless, but he was uncomfortable.

Jim felt a pang of sympathy for the dragons—having nearly had his life and soul stripped from his body when he first tried to enter the Soul Cairn, the prospect of what these dragons felt in their dying moments when their souls were absorbs was no longer left to the imagination. He didn't like it…and he didn't like how it changed his view about himself.

Jim never regarded himself as a hero, as much as people like to think of him as one. He was a warrior—and a good one—who simply fought for what he believed in. But, he was also a killer, and regarded by others to be a murderer—for once, he had to agree.

"Hold on…the scent carried on the wind…" Jim said, interrupting his thoughts. "Falmer…"

"_Dovahkiin_?" Odahviing asked, having landed with a solid _thunk_.

"You smell it too, right?" Jim asked rhetorically. "My companion needs some time to rest—Odahviing, if you would oblige my request and scout for and eliminate any Falmer you come across, you'll have my thanks…"

Without a word, Odahviing took off—whether it was to scout ahead as Jim requested or out of annoyance of said request, he had no idea.

"Jim, are you alright?" Serana asked, her footsteps drowned out by the beating of wings. Jim jumped in surprise.

"Don't sneak up on me like that," he chuckled. "That's not exactly good on the heart…"

"Are we moving on?" Serana asked.

"Not quite…" Jim answered. "We're going to wait a bit—let the clouds roll in and block out the sun. Besides, I could eat a bear right now…hell, why don't I hunt us some deer?"

Serana wasn't in doubt of Jim's abilities after this battle—she smiled with enough warmth to melt the ice under them. "Good plan…"

They camped by the word wall, with Jim hefting a Vale deer over his shoulder. Using what he could as tinder, he used his fire breath creatively for lighting the fire. Serana knew werewolves had big appetites, but Jim was just plain ravenous—she couldn't tell if he was even eating or if he was breathing his food.

She refused the food, so he practically ate the entire deer himself.

As they sat patiently waiting for the clouds to roll in, Serana couldn't resist the question forming on her lips.

"So, how do you get a dragon on your side like that?" she asked.

"The shortest answer I can give you is that I made a deal…" Jim replied.

"Come on, Jim. Enlighten me with the whole story…"

"Well, after I first defeated Alduin on top of the Throat of the World, he fled like a coward—this action raised doubts about Alduin's strength. I learned from Alduin's brother that he fled to Sovngarde to feed off the souls there…to replenish his strength…" he started.

"So…where does that dragon fit into all this?" Serana asked.

"Odahviing, as it turned out, was one of Alduin's chief lieutenants," Jim said. "A dragon's name is much like a Shout—when I called his name, it was like I issued a challenge…and dragons are proud beings."

"But…" Jim chuckled. "He was too brash for his own good—I used the trap in Dragonsreach to hold Odahviing prisoner."

"Dragonsreach? As in Olaf One-Eye's palace?"

"The very one…" Jim replied. "Anyway, we cut a deal: he would take me to Alduin, and I would release him from the trap. We both kept our words—when I'd truly defeated Alduin, Odahviing pledged his allegiance to me…"

"So dragons are like Nords," Serana said, laying back to look at the sky. "They respect strength…and bravado…"

Looking at Serana, Jim ran his fingers through her hair and smiled as ebony silk slid between his fingers.

"Do _you_ respect strength and bravado?" he asked.

"Your strength…is not _that_ kind of strength, Jim," she replied. "Your strength comes from here…"

Serana reached out and touched Jim's chest, where his heart was.

"And I love you for it…for who you are…" she concluded.

Blushing, and with tears of joy forming at his eyes, he lay down next to her and held her close. Clouds didn't come, forcing them to wait for sundown…

Jim didn't care…


	21. Author's Apology and Announcement

**Author's Announcement and Apology**

**I have upsetting news to my readers. Since my last update, I've struggled to write anything beyond three paragraphs of chapter 21 of the story - I have a feeling that it is due to the characters being far too derivative (my DB is based off a character from an entirely different franchise, for Pete's sake - hardly original).**

**The result is writer's block that may last the whole summer and beyond for this particular fanfic. This is couple with the crushing expectation that each chapter should be released in a timely manner and should be better than the last.**

**As such, I am disappointed to announce that this fanfic will be suspended for such a reason. I realize many of you have enjoyed it so far and am quite touched that you have stuck with me as long as you did. I feel I may need to ask how my readers feel I should proceed with writing the next chapter, or if I should start fresh with a more original character.**

**I have no intention of canceling this altogether, though. This announcement will be out for as long as I'm still working said chapter or new fanfic. I will attempt to work on it in the meantime, for the record.  
**

**Apologies,**

**Solaris**


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